Chickies on Timetrip Part 1
by Wolle
Summary: The Chickies find a timemachine and suddenly appear at their fave tv-show: The Monkees


The Dreaded German Chickie Corps on Time Trip  


**Part One: Past Trip  
**

written by Wolle   
translated by Greenie **  
******

It was September 15th, 2000, and against all forecasts the six of us had all managed to meet up at Fuzzy's in Kempen. No – the FIVE of us, I had to correct myself. We were supposed to meet Gwen on Saturday afternoon in Cologne to walk around the city to- gether. And now we – Fuzzy, Mary, Nev, Greenie and I - were sitting at Fuzzy's house on the floor of her spacious room and chattered all at once in the excitement of our long awaited reunion. I looked about myself and grinned. It was hard to believe that Greenie and I had only just arrived an hour before. The journey alone had been an ad- venture in its own right. Greenie had managed to get a car from one of her friends – well, you needed a lot of good will to call it a CAR. Vehicle was more appropriate. But it rolled, and that was the main thing. Because Greenie was the only one of us who had a driver's permit, she was clearly the driver. I was supposed to plunge into the road map… Uh, bad idea, shotgun! Give the blind chick a map and expect everything to work – pshaw! 

As long as we were driving on main roads and the freeway, it was all right, but when we took the turn to Kempen, the chaos began. It happened as it had to happen – we got completely lost! And while Greenie, sweating and cursing, tugged at the steering wheel, and I turned the map first to one side then to the other, feeling like Micky as a mechanic for Klutzmobile, minutes and hours went by in which we only drove round in circles. Every time Greenie took a different turn – only to pass the same wall again. "If I see this wall one more time, I'll go berserk!" hissed Greenie desperately, and I looked up from the map that meanwhile had three times as many folds as when we'd bought it.  


"I think we have to go this way," I pointed to the right. "That's definitely the way to Fuzzy's house." 

"You've been saying that for the last 20 times." 

"But this time I'm sure!" 

Greenie gave me a piercing glance, and I added with an innocent grin: "And besides it's the only way left – and Kempen isn't that big after all." 

"Yeah, and we can skip the sightseeing tour because we already had it today." Greenie pulled a face, and I dug into the map again. We did reach Fuzzy's house a mere five minutes later, and the others were already eagerly awaiting us, welcoming us with chattering and laughter. 

"Well, you're finally here!" said Fuzzy. 

"Sorry, we had some … um… ", Greenie cleared her throat and gave me a faked angry look. "direction problems." 

"YOU wanted me to read the map!" I defended myself, while Nev clung to my pullover out of sheer habit. 

"Well, at least you're here!" Mary chimed. I exchanged a look with her and grinned meaningfully: "You know what comes to my mind?" Four pairs of eyes looked at me questioningly. I took a deep breath and intoned loudly, if not nicely: "I've been waiting so long…" 

"…to be where I'm going…" Fuzzy joined in. 

"…IN THE SUNSHINE OF YOUR LOOOO-OOO-OVE!!!" we all roared a finish to the song 

Peter had performed in his cameo appearance in "7th Heaven". We all laughed, and then Fuzzy pushed us inside the house. 

"Come on in now! It's getting cold outside!" 

In single file and very excitedly we trampled up the staircase to Fuzzy's realm on the up- per floor. Her parents we not at home this weekend – lucky them, I would have pitied them! 

And now, and hour later, it seemed as if we had never parted at all. As if London and that gigantic meeting with Peter wasn't three month away but had only happened yes- terday. What a pity Gwen isn't here, I thought, thinking of all those kind letters, cards and e-mails she had sent me, but I comforted myself with the thought that it would only be a matter of hours till we would meet her in Cologne. 

A pillow hit me on the head and catapulted me back into here and now. 

"Hey Wolle! Dreaming?" – Nev! Of course, I thought. 

"Just you wait – that calls for a revenge!" I ripped a pillow from Fuzzy that she had been hugging and flung it with all my might at Nev's direction. 

"HEY!" Fuzzy complained. "That's my favourite cuddle pillow!" 

Nev on her part ducked skilfully, and the missile aimed at her hit the unsuspecting Mary, who had just got the missing concert photos of Peter. She shrieked in surprise, and Pe- ter spread across the floor. 

"Oh, my gosh!" Nev exclaimed in mock desperation. "Poor, poor Peter!" 

"It's his own fault," I shrugged, "why does he stand in the way?" 

"If it was my Peter spilling on the kitchen floor, if it was my Peter, would you care a little more…" Greenie sang tragically and earned pillows from three different directions. A second later the biggest pillow fight was underway, which only came to a sudden stop because we lost our breath. In the end we lay panting and giggling across each other on the floor and held our tummies. 

"I can't move my arms…" mumbled Nev. 

"Well, I can't move your arms either," Greenie answered immediately. 

"Let's race for the door," Mary suggested in the same deadly tired tone, "Okay, one- two-three-go!" 

Fuzzy turned her head in my direction, where I lay like dead, and grinned, "Gee, man, you won!" 

"Man, I'm totally bushed, " I giggled and rubbed my throbbing arms. "Tomorrow I'll be aching all over!" 

"Today!" came from four mouths. I looked at my watch, as far as my aching arm let me – and moaned. It was already 3 a.m. "Right. Today. You think we will go to sleep at all?" 

"You won't," ordered Fuzzy. "Blimey isn't here yet." 

The thought of Fuzzy's cat that had spent every night in my bed on my last visit made me laugh again. But I squinted with pain and held my stomach. "Ouch! I didn't even know I had muscles there, but they hurt!" 

Nev yawned heartily, and made us all do the same. 

"I think it's really bed time now, Chickies," decided Fuzzy, and this time no one object- ed. "Who wants the bathroom first?" 

"Let's shoot for it!" I suggested and jumped up, holding up a fist. The others sat up as well. "One – two – three!" 

We opened our hands and looked at the outcome. Fuzzy and I had both held out three fingers, Greenie and Nev two each – and Mary one. 

"Well, you've got the odd finger, Mary!" I said in the best Texas accent I could manage. 

"There's nothing odd about my fingers!" she drawled back, but disappeared into the bathroom nevertheless. Greenie and Nev chose for it again, and I let Fuzzy go first. When I came out of the bathroom last, ready for bed in my favourite flannel pyjamas with the teddy bears, carefully stepping over Greenie and Nev, who lay on the ground, huddled into their sleeping bags, I could already hear regular breathing noises from Nev's. Mary had taken the old couch, and I was allowed the guest bed again. When I slipped probingly under the blanket, I noticed a little fluffy, furry ball that had settled at the end of my bed. 

"Hello Blimey, " I whispered, "Nice to see you again." She answered with a tired meow, but didn't let herself be disturbed. Even when I carefully stretched out my legs underneath her, she barely moved at all. As if I'd never been away, I giggled silently to myself, and seconds later I was fast asleep.  


The alarm shrieked loudly through my ears, and I jumped up in a shock. Blimey gave an annoyed meow and jumped off me. With an indiscernible babble and grunting I fell back into the pillows and buried my face in them. 

"Too bloody early!" I heard Greenie swear in purest Manchester English. Seconds later I felt my blanket ripped off me, and a grinning Fuzzy towered over me. 

"Man, you scared Blimey! I think this was the last time she slept on you." 

"Oh darn." I stated ironically. Fuzzy was now joined by Nev, who peaked over her shoulder. "Is she always like that in the mornings?" 

"Before she's drunk her first cup of coffee – yes." She turned to Nev. 

"You were there in London, weren't you? Didn't you notice?" 

"Yes, but I thought she was cured after that horror coffee there." 

I jumped up immediately. "Merciful Heavens! Don't remind me of that murderous brew!" 

Nev grinned with satisfaction. "See, you just have to mention it, and it works." Fuzzy nodded. "Ah! Psychological warfare." 

"Yep!" 

I rubbed my head. "Could you go and annoy someone else now? How about Greenie?" 

"Right!" both said in unison and trudged over to the sleeping bag that was still pulled close up to the very top. 

"Greenie!!!" Nev cried merrily. "Rise and shine!" while Fuzzy poked at the bulging material. 

"Hey, she doesn't listen at all." 

"Well, she'll have to," said Nev and cried her heart out: "GREEEEEEEENIEEEEE!!!!! WAKE UP!" 

"What's all that noise?" Greenie said from behind, and Nev and Fuzzy looked at her pretty sheepishly. 

"Now where do you come from?" Fuzzy regained her speech first. 

"From the bathroom," grinned Greenie. "You were so busy picking on poor Wolle, that Mary and I had a shoot for the bathroom. I won, and Mary's in the shower right now." One second of utter silence followed, and then Fuzzy. Nev and I stormed the door all at once. "I'm next!" I yelled. 

"No, I'm next!" Fuzzy retorted, "I'm awake the longest!" 

"You two quarrel…" Nev didn't get any further, for the next instant the bathroom door opened and out came Mary. She hadn't heard us and got a dead shock from the un- wanted attack. 

"Aaaaaahh!" 

Equally shocked from her scream, the three of us jumped up as well. 

"Don't do that!" Nev and Fuzzy cried in unison while I clutched at my heart. 

"You guys scared me half to death!" replied Mary and pushed her wet hair back out of her forehead. 

Half an hour later we all sat downstairs, showered and dressed, and having breakfast. In remembrance of our London trip there was cornflakes and toast for everyone – and cof- fee for those who wanted. I declined. After breakfast Greenie, Mary and I went upstairs once more to get our hair done for good. While Mary dried her hair, Greenie wrestled her unwanted curls, as usual. 

"Why!?" she wailed. "Why don't I draw a lesson from all those messed up perms? This time is the worst ever!" 

She brushed wildly against her fuzzy curls. I looked up from my morning make up ceremony and gave her a broad grin. 

"I don't know what you're so on about. You make a smashing Micky look-alike!" 

"Argh – wrong Monkee!" She took a large amount of hair gel from a tube and smeared it into her mop of hair. Then she kneaded it until at least the curls didn't stand up into all directions any more. Finally she mused at her reflection. "Well…." 

"Not beautiful, but rare," I commented, and earned a nudge in the ribs. "Hey! Your perm isn't my fault!" 

"Yes, but I had expected something like sympathy at least from you. Mind you, you were the one who kept complaining about her hairdo when we were in London!" 

"Well, it wasn't exactly what you could call a hairdo…" Mary chimed in, switching the hairdryer off and plaiting her shoulder-length hair into two pigtails. 

"That's why I cut it off," I explained and ran my hand contentedly over the shaved back of my neck, admiring my fresh concave cut. "As much as I'd like to have long hair, short hair suits me better. My hair's too thin." I threw my head back and forth a few times and noticed to my satisfaction that the hair settled down again exactly like I'd combed it before. 

"Add some dimples, and you could compete with the young Peter," Mary said and went rummaging in her cosmetics bag for a second ribbon. 

"Thank you!" I said with such fervour that I did sound almost like Peter in the 'A la Mode' episode. 

An enervated call came up from downstairs: "Hey, will you three hairstylists hurry up! The train for Cologne leaves in half an hour, and we still have to get to the station!" 

"Don't worry, Fuzzy!" Greenie called back. "We'll take the car, then we'll make it easily." Five minutes later Greenie loaded us all into the tiny car – and that was easier said than done! Fortunately none of us four Nezheads had Mike's height, or else we would have had a serious problem. 

"Boy!" I groaned when we finally took off. "What are we supposed to do on the way back, with Gwen in here as well?" I didn't feel well at all, squeezed in between Nev and the window. Fuzzy had really caught the best place – the front seat. 

"Gwen?" replied Mary, "She's small." 

"Yeah, if all else fails, we'll tie her onto the roof." Nev decided a little breathlessly. 

"Or like a radiator mascot on the hood." I added sarcastically. 

"Or we put her into the trunk." Fuzzy added. 

"This car doesn't have a trunk." Greenie contradicted. 

"Oh! It'll have to be the hood then." Fuzzy shrugged. 

Meanwhile I tried opening a window, which turned out to be not very easy, with half of Nev on my lap and the handle directly under my left knee. But I felt a slight sense of claustrophobia, and it was absolutely necessary to open that window. When I had finally managed to get in down an inch, Greenie was already parking the car in front of Kem- pen station, and as soon as Fuzzy had descended and folded the front seat forward, the three of us stormed out into the eagerly awaited freedom – first of all me. 

"Air! Space! Freedom!" 

"I wanna be freeee…." squeaked Nev and tugged at my cardigan. 

"That's not funny!" I snapped and wriggled free from her grab. 

"I didn't know you had a claustrophobic disposition!" 

"Only in tin cans like that!" I put out my tongue at the poor car. "Maybe we should call it Davy – after the retired Shades Of Gray Davy." 

"HEY!" It was Greenie's turn to protest. 

Luckily the train pulled into the station that very moment, so we couldn't carry on with this discussion. We seized five seats and sang one Monkees song after the other during the one-hour ride. The attempt to sing in five separate voices failed miserably, but who cared? We were having an excellent time. The other passengers eyed us suspiciously, but we became even louder and more elated. Then we sang our London Theme Song, with distributed parts, in the revised version. 

"Take the last train to London, and we'll meet up at the station…" began Fuzzy. 

"I'll wait at Paris Central, I've got a Peter reservation…." Mary took over, earning laughter from the others, who remembered how she and Fuz had missed Brussels Central and had had to go on straight through to Paris. 

"Oh yeah yeah yeah, oh yeah yeah yeah…!" we sang more or less in tune. Then it was Nev's turn: "I'll be coming on the bus, and the trip will be quite long, I only think of Pe- ter, and I sing this groovy song…" 

"Oh yeah yeah yeah, oh yeah yeah yeah…" 

"And I wish time wouldn't go so fast." Nev blinked her eyes into my direction, and I al- most forgot my cue. More giggling than singing I began: "With the fastest flight to London we will meet you at the bar…" 

"WINONAH!!!" it bleated from four mouths, bringing tears of laughter to my eyes again. 

"Wrong song!!!" 

"The city is all crowded, and you won't get very far…" Greenie saved the harmony. 

"Oh yeah yeah yeah, oh yeah yeah yeah…" 

"Attention, this is the difficult part," I cautioned, and while Nev and Fuzzy stayed with an accompanying "Didididididididi…", Mary, Greenie and I tried the bridge together: 

"The ev'ning's near, the club is full, we're crying loud, this is so cool, Peter live – can this be real? We don't know how to feel…" 

"This should be Gwen's turn, but she isn't here," said Fuzzy, but waved it off. "No problem, I'll take over." And after a new count she continued with new lyrics: "Gwen takes the next flight to London, she is goin' t' see Peter too. She's looking forward to the ev'ning, she thinks this is way too cool…" 

"Talk about looking forward to it," giggled Mary, "She nearly fainted before it even started!" 

"Oh yeah yeah yeah, oh yeah yeah yeah!" we sang on nevertheless, and with some extra schmaltz in my voice I sang; "And I wish his hugs just wouldn't end so fast…" Which prompted the others to almost roll on the floor with laughter. 

"ROTFL!" was Greenie's dry comment on this. 

"Once an internist, always an internist," I said, again causing howls of laughter. 

"Okay, Chickies, Final!" I encouraged them after they'd gathered themselves again. 

"One! Two! Three! Four!" 

"After this groovy trip to London, I guess we all now have to go. It was so great but oh- so short and we'd love another show!" we sang even louder than before. "Oh yeah yeah yeah, oh yeah yeah yeah!" We inhaled dramatically and crooned: "And I wish the time just wouldn't go so fast…" 

"Take the next train to London!" sang Mary, while Fuzzy sang 'last' instead of 'next'. 

"Take the next bus to London!" peeped Nev fervently. 

"Take the next flight to London!" added Greenie and I. And with a five-fold "Come as fast as light to London!" we ended our performance. We applauded each other and yelled. We were our own biggest fans. We didn't care what the other passengers thought until a young man behind us bowed forward: 

"That wasn't half bad! Are you a choir or something, or are you just friends?" 

I exchanged an look with Greenie and then yelled in my best Peter-impersonating-Davy impersonation: "WE'RE GONNA FORM A GROUP!!!" 

The man retreated, a bit irritated, but not exactly repelled. 

"Man, you scared him!" Fuzzy whispered into my ear. 

The train ride passed quickly. We sang "Pleasant Valley Sunday" and got confused in the middle of it, because two of us sang the Monkee original, and the rest Peter's version – but that didn't matter. Then we did Davy's "What are we going to do", trying to out- squeak each other in the progress, and then proceeded to Mike's "Wax Minute", which didn't really resemble anything like singing anymore when we ended in a kind of wolf's howl on the high pitched notes. We began to throw quotes at each other until an elderly woman complained: "Can't you Hippies just shut up, for Heaven's sake!" – she didn't really succeed, for this only prompted more quotes from us. 

"I'm not a hippie," said Greenie, looking down at herself. 

"Fuzzy's a hippie!" cried Mary. 

"No, I'm not a hippie," she drawled in perfect Mike-manner. 

"Sure you're a hippie!" Nev chimed in, "You got beads, you're a hippie!" 

"Don't hit me with a stick, please!" 

"I am a hippie, up in costume and masked," I brought forward a Florian quote, with as straight a face as I could, earning boos for that. 

"Hey!" I defended myself, "Someone must do my name justice, I owe it to Florian, after all!" 

"Yes, but that's the only positive thing about him!" Fuzzy replied with a growl. 

"Micky does the panther bit, and I'll pretend I've wet myself!" Greenie announced proudly. 

"Oh please! Stop it!" Fuzzy rolled her eyes. But now we had caught fire, and we set out to top that. 

"Your Mommy would slap you for this," began Greenie. 

"Keep Mommy out of this!" I pretended to be offended. 

"Yes, that's unfair, Greenie," Mary took the bait, "Her Mommy would kill her for that." 

"You know Mommy!" I said more dummy-like than Peter could have ever done it. 

"Merciful Heavens! Thank God Almighty we're finally in Cologne!" Fuzzy moaned theatrically while the train pulled into the station. 

"I see Gwen!" I roared and jumped up to wave. 

"Ouch!" complained Greenie, whom I'd almost trampled to the ground, rubbing her ear. "Man, we're just about to see her!" 

"Sorry…" 

The train came to a halt, and seconds later five girls rushed to hug their lost Chickie. We launched into a special Monkee hug, jumping up and down with joy. The Monkees themselves would have envied us. 

"It's so great to have you all back!" sighed Gwen while I wiped an imaginary tear from my eye. 

"The Dreaded German Chickie Corps – reunited at last!" Fuzzy called out. 

"So where do we go first?" asked Mary. 

"The cathedral!" cried Nev who visited Cologne for the first time. 

"That's okay as long as we look at it from the GROUND." I said, and a cold shudder went down my spine as I thought back to that horror trip to Danzig where I'd had the worst attack of fear of heights of my life. 

"Uh, come on, Wolle," Greenie teased, "I'm sure they won't mind you sliding down the stairs to the bell tower on your behind." 

"Don't do that!" I grumbled, but launched into yet another Florian imitation. "No way, Baby, I'm afraid of heights!" and Fuzzy moaned again. 

"What?" asked Gwen, and Fuz explained it to her. "That's what they've been doing the whole day long! I wish I'd never hit that idea of a Florian tribute website."  


After we had marched to the cathedral where Nev and Greenie made a few photographs, we decided to go to a café and have an ice cream, since the weather was unusually warm for September. On the way we attracted the eyes of several passers-by. I grinned, looking at the six of us. Yes, the majority of us would have fit easily into the sixties, considering our outfits. Nev in her oversized flared pants with the patches and beaded belt, fitting brown woollen vest, with cords and a black t-shirt made the best hippie out of the six of us. Her hair that had grown back over her shoulders again, parted in the middle, completed the picture. I myself wore my favourite bellbottoms – my red "Mike"-pants that almost came apart already – and a belt with a flower-shaped buckle that I had fastened in Peter manner on the left hip, and under a colourful cardi- gan a grey turtleneck, only my sneakers disturbed the overall picture. But I loved those sneakers, because they were totally comfortable, AND because there was the word HEAD on them. Mary wore bellbottoms as well, together with a tight yellow long- sleeved shirt and jeans-coloured plateau boots – miraculously without ever complaining about hurting feet. Fuzzy and Greenie stood out most through their "normal" outfits. Fuzzy wore wide cotton pants and a wide black t-shirt, and Greenie wore comfortable baggy pants and her three colour striped "Micky" shirt. Gwen was somewhere in the middle. Together with plain black pants she wore a loud purple batik shirt. 

We discovered a nice little café and decided to sit outside because of the nice weather. A while later we all sat in front of huge sundaes and feasted. 

"Do I smell alcohol again, Wolle?" Nev teased me. 

"Yeah, so what?" I retorted. 

"Oh, nothing…" she smiled impishly and began silently humming a familiar tune. 

"Winonah… The whisky owns her…" Greenie joined in. 

"Don't do that!" I warned, but it didn't help much – seconds later everyone roared the refrain to "Winonah", and I pulled a sheepish face. 

When we had finished our sundaes and paid, Gwen suggested we go to her favourite place on the Rhine bank, which I also knew already. Only the last time I had been there it had rained cats and dogs. 

"Man, I hardly recognize Cologne – without the rain!" I couldn't resist the tease and only hoped it wouldn't start to rain again. But this wasn't a TV show, least of all The Monkees, where such things could actually happen. 

We strolled along the Rhine for a while, then sat down at the water and dangled our legs. I pointed to a bridge to our right. 

"Look, that's the bridge under which we hid from the rain last year, and Fuzzy and I read "The Monkees on Fairground" to Gwen!" 

"Oh yeah, I still get a hoarse throat when I think of that Davy-squeaks," said Fuzzy. 

"Why, you can do it best of us all, " I found, on which Fuzzy started squeaking in the highest heights: "That's exciiiiiting!" 

After we had chattered about all the 2017-stories, Davy-Mike-love stories and all the other internet fanfics, we began to shiver with cold. The sun had vanished behind a cloud and with a glance at her watch Fuzzy said we would have to hurry if we wanted to still catch the next train back to Kempen. So we got up and took off to the station. About 200 yards along the way we passed a car dealer's park, and there I spotted some- thing that caught me immediately. I stopped abruptly, and Nev, Mary and Gwen, all walking directly behind me, crashed into me. 

"Hey!" 

"Ouch!" 

"What's that stop?" were the slightly annoyed comments, but I kept staring at the car park. 

"Greenie!" I called, and she turned around. 

"What?" 

"Come here and look at this!" 

She trotted over obediently, Fuzzy trailing behind her. "Yeah?" 

I pointed at a black van near to us. "Tell me what this reminds you of." 

At first Greenie frowned, thinking hard, then she remembered. "You're thinking of Tip- tee's fanfic story!" 

"Exactly!" 

"Huh, who?" Mary looked at us questioningly. I explained: "That story where the Monkees are transported to the year 2000 via time machine, and the protagonist marries Micky in the end." 

"Oh the choice of words, how sophisticated!" teased Fuzzy. 

"That's you who said it…" Nev reminded her of good old Florian. Fuzzy slapped her hand against her forehead. "Darn!" 

"So, well?" Gwen pushed. "You showed us the car. Can we go now? The train leaves in…" 

"Couldn't we go a bit closer?" I asked. "I'd like to have a closer look." 

"Why?" asked Mary bored. "It won't be the time machine. So?" 

"But we could pretend." I insisted. 

"But the train…" Fuzzy was about to object, but I interrupted her. "The next one is leaving in half an hour! Come on! Can't one have a dream?" 

"I'm in!" Nev agreed in an instant when she heard her favourite sentence from my mouth. Greenie was enthusiastic too. 

"Let's ask the dealer if we can sit behind the wheel – just for fun!" 

"Ah, our Lancashire Bridget Greenie has caught fire!" I teased, linked arms with her and Nev and dragged them with me. The others followed me at slower speed. They hadn't read the fanfic and couldn't quite understand our enthusiasm. 

We stood irresolutely in front of the car and looked out for any salesperson – but there was absolutely no one in sight. 

"Hello?" I called out loud. "No one in? We'd like to have a look at this car!" 

"There isn't anybody here, let's leave." Gwen was visibly embarrassed. 

"Why should we?" Greenie replied with a sudden glow in her eyes. "If there's nobody here, no one can stop us from sitting in that car either." 

"Is this really necessary?" Mary asked insecurely. But Greenie had already opened the driver's door and hopped behind the wheel. 

"Come on Chickies!" she urged, looking about herself. "Great! Exactly like I imagined the car in the story!" 

I climbed onto the front seat, while Fuzzy and Nev sat in the back. After a bit of hesitation Mary and Gwen joined us as well – the latter not without looking around cautiously another time, making sure we really wouldn't be watched. 

"And now imagine there's a switch or button somewhere inside here that can transport us back into the Monkees' time." I sighed. 

"Uh, wouldn't that be great?" Nev joined in enthusiastically. 

"Mike!" Mary sighed blissfully. "Michael!" 

"Oh, you're mean!" Fuzzy complained half-heartedly, thinking of those unique side- burns. Only Gwen chuckled: "He would certainly be thankful of four madcap Nezheads attacking him all at once!" on which four pairs of eyes pierced her. 

"How can you be so heartless?!" I complained, and Nev grumbled: "Can't one have a dream?" 

"Besides, I'd like to see YOU in front of Peter, Gwen!" Mary retorted. 

"Or Micky!" Fuzzy added. 

"Yeah! Okay, okay!" she withdrew, laughing. "I mean, what does it matter? This isn't the actual time machine anyway and there's no red button either." 

"Uhm…." Greenie began slowly. "There IS a red button here…" 

"What? Where?" I leapt up and scanned the dashboard. Nev, too, bounced up. 

"Wow, this fantasy is getting more and more real!" 

"Really!" I shouted. "A red button!" 

"A red button?" four voices echoed from the back seat. 

"Push it! Push it!" Nev urged enthusiastically. 

"The devil I will!" I replied. "In the end I'll break something and we'll have to pay for it!" 

"Then I will!", Nev decided and before I or the others could stop her, she leaned forward and pushed the button. 

"NEV!!!" 

At first nothing happened and we were about to heave a sigh of relief – when some- thing yanked at the car, there was a short flash and – we found ourselves and the car on a very familiar beach! 

"I- I don't believe it…" stammered Greenie, the first to regain her speech, while I stared outside with big round eyes. 

"Yippieeee!" Nev cheered from the back seat. "It worked!" 

"It worked?" Fuzzy repeated incredulously, then a smile spread across her face. "It worked!" 

"You're putting me on, aren't you?" Gwen said dryly, exchanged a probing look with is to make sure she was seeing the same things as we did. I couldn't stop myself grinning stupidly, excited like I was. Then Greenie's voice entered my conscience: "And what's wrong with Mary? Has she fainted?" 

We turned around to her sitting there silently with eyes like saucers and her mouth open. 

"Mary?" Nev waved her hand in front of her face. 

"Mary, what's the matter?" Fuzzy asked with concern. 

"M-Michael…" she peeped barely audibly. 

"Yes, Mary, we'll be sure to see him soon," I tried to calm her. But she shook her head slightly and pointed to a spot behind me. "N-No, th-there. M-Michael…" 

We all followed her finger. I turned around – and looked directly into Mike's big dark brown eyes as he bowed down to the front seat window. 

"Hello, can I help ya out or somethin'?" he asked with that unmistakable soft voice, drawling his Texas accent and smiling his slight smile – and my jaw fell down to the floor! Fuzzy, Nev, Mary and I just stared at him open mouthed – we weren't capable of anything else at the moment. Luckily Greenie had a better grip on herself. 

"Yes, our car – uh – broke down. We got lost, and now the engine won't start any- more." 

"Wait, I'll get my friend Micky. He knows his way with engines," said Mike and yelled at a certain spot down the beach: "MICKY!!!" When he didn't get the desired reaction, he pressed his fists into his hips and went to fetch him. We remained frozen in our apathetic position. 

"Th-that w-was…" I began. 

"Michael!" sighed Mary. 

"Did he say he was fetching Micky?" asked Gwen. Her voice turned into a squeak at the end of the sentence. 

"I don't believe this…" Fuzzy shook her head. Nev didn't say anything. She just stared out glassy-eyed; her mouth twisted into a far off smile and emitted hoarse croaking noises. 

"Get yourselves together, Chickies!" Greenie reprimanded us and opened the driver's door. "First of all get out of the car. Everything will go its right way then. And now quit staring at him like he's the tenth wonder of the world! You're really embarrassing!" 

"Yes, Mother Chick!" we grumbled in unison and followed her outside. 

"I'd like to see her facing the real Davy Jones," Nev whispered into Fuzzy's ear. 

"We really seem to have found the time machine from the Tiptee story, " I mused. "But how can that be, when she has already written the story, the car is complete fiction and should actually be in America?" 

"Don't confuse me!" complained Mary, craning her neck to see when Mike would re- turn. 

"It seems a number of fanfic universes are overlapping at the moment," I mused on, scratching my head. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Gwen inquired. "You think we're only characters in a fanfic story ourselves?" 

"Who knows? I'd think everything possible right now." 

Greenie nodded. ""Yeah, we could have landed with the TV Monkees, but just as well with Enola's Power Monkees." 

"Huh, even scarier!" I shuddered. 

"One thing's for sure," Gwen said, looking intently around her. "This is all real. No TV props or cameras." 

"So let's see this as a big adventure!" Nev cheered. "After all, all the dreaming has fi- nally paid off!" 

"I only hope…" I mumbled. The others looked at me. 

"What?" 

"I hope we haven't landed in Madame's fanfic universe." 

"Why, what do you have against her?" Greenie taunted. 

"Nothing! Nothing against her personally, or her stories, only…" 

"Only what?" everyone but Greenie asked, and she grinned impishly. And I pulled a pained face. 

"Because Isabel would be Mike's steady girl then!" 

"MERCIFUL HEAVENS!!!" came the shocked exclamation from three mouths, while Greenie and Gwen laughed heartily. 

Two long figures approached us – Mike with Micky trailing along behind him. I still couldn't believe it. Not even when Micky stood directly in front of us, his fuzzy mop even fuzzier from the wind, and with his trademark broad Micky grin. 

"Hello!" he greeted us in his usual easy-going way and shook our hands. "I'm Micky." He stopped a while in front of Greenie and grinned. "Hey, groovy hairdo!" but before Greenie could answer – if she had been able to, Micky continued, "You're having some trouble with your car?" 

"Yes," I nodded. A side glance to Gwen and Greenie told me that they going through the same situation as we had with Mike. "It'd be smashing if you could have a look at it." 

"'Course!" he agreed eagerly and eyed the car curiously. Now Mike stepped forward again, straightening his wool hat – he really wore it all the time, even here on the beach! 

"I forgot to introduce myself, too. Mah name's Mike…" 

"I know," said Mary, Fuzzy, Nev and I in unison, only to throw our hands over our mouths a second later. Mike looked us with some irritation, and then shook our hands as well. I felt the warmth coming from it, and thought I was about to faint with excite- ment every minute. I looked over to Mary who stood beside me and looked incredulously at her hand. 

"He touched me… he touched me…" she kept breathing, until Greenie nudged her. 

"Shh! This is embarrassing!" 

"'Ello ev'rybody!" an unmistakable voice with a heavy British accent called out the next instant, and a small figure approached us. 

"AH!" squeaked Greenie and almost jumped into my arms. "That's really Davy! Davy Jones!!!" 

"Shh!" I reprimanded her overly authoritarian, mimicking her tone. "This is embarrassing!" 

Meanwhile Davy had reached us and beamed at all of us. 

"Oh, we go' visitors! And they're all such wonderful girls! Wha' a pleasure to meet you!" 

"Schmaltz, babble, drool…!" I whispered into Greenie's ear, but she just kept grinning like mad and had to concentrate hard on keeping her wits together while Davy stepped forward and shook our hands. He remained with Gwen for an exceptionally long time, and I could have sworn I saw little stars glittering in his eyes! 

"'Ello, luv! My name's David Jones, and I think I love you!" 

"Oh. My. God," was Gwen's dry reply, withdrawing from his hand. Greenie broke out laughing, catching an offended look from Davy. 

"Some things never change…" I remarked quietly. 

Micky re-emerged from the car and luckily distracted the common attention from Davy who didn't seem to cope very well with this defeat. 

"Well, I can't see anything on first sight," he said with a shrug and wiped sweat from his forehead. "But it's getting dark. I'll have another close look at it tomorrow. But now," he exchanged a look with Mike who nodded his approval, "now we'll go inside together and work out a way for you to spend the night." 

"You're welcome with us," Mike added and we all called out, "Thank you!" Micky and Mike went ahead, and we followed them. Davy trailed along a bit slower – he still seemed to ponder why his charmed hadn't made any impression on Gwen. We climbed the stairs to the porch and a second later stood right in the middle of the Mon- kees pad. We looked around in amazement. It really looked the same as on TV – only this was real! No film set. Right on was the heavy front door with the peephole that was way too high for Davy to look through, on the right the spiral staircase led up to the upper bedrooms, and you could see the black couch and the TV. On our left was the bandstand with the instruments propped up exactly the way we knew it from television. There was a light whistle from the kitchen. Micky went up to it. 

"Hey Peter! We brought some visitors!" 

A head appeared from the kitchen corner – blond hair, dimples and a warm smile – and I was on the brink of melting. Honestly, if I wasn't a Nezhead… 

"Great!" he shouted happily when he caught sight of us and hurried up to us. 

"Hello!" And he gave us all one of his patented Peter-hugs. It felt fantastic. 

"Gwen?", I inquired carefully, remembering London. "This time you won't…?", but she just stared at him with glistening eyes, smiling that reserved, mysterious smile. 

"I'm okay…," she mumbled. 

"What's for dinner?" Micky asked and put his head into the stove. 

"Not much," Peter shrugged apologetically. "The fridge is almost empty again. We have to go shopping for groceries tomorrow." 

"Very funny, Pete!" said Davy, "With what? Our wallets aren't much fuller than the fridge." 

"We've got money!" Fuzzy said quickly. She rummaged around in her pocket. "We only have to…", she stopped and looked at the contents of her purse. 

"What's the matter?" asked Micky, Mike, Davy and Peter. Fuzzy shook her head. 

"Nothing." Then she prodded Nev and breathed: "Have a look in your pockets! I was sure I had exactly 30 DM with me – now they're Dollar bills!" 

At once we fumbled for our money. Nev pulled 35 Dollars from her pocket, I brought to light 20, and Mary and Gwen 25 Dollars each. Only Greenie made a desperate face. 

"I had my credit card with me – now it's nothing more than a worthless piece of card- board!!!" 

"There are no credit cards where we are now, Greenie!" said Fuzzy and laid a compassionate arm round her shoulder. I couldn't stifle a grin. 

"Well, at least you won't risk spending too much money that way." 

"Very funny!" she retorted. 

"Hey – YOU told us we should take that card from you!" 

"But I didn't mean…" she grumbled and eyed the red cardboard intently. 

"What are you talking about?" Micky hung over Mary and Nev's shoulders and grinned all over his face. 

"Nothing!" Greenie said quickly and put the card away. 

"We just compared how much money we've got," Fuzzy stepped in. 

"Uh, by the way," Mike said from the TV corner where seemed to be looking for something. Finally he came back with a chair under his arm and continued, "Ya haven't told us yet your names and where you come from." 

"Oh, sorry!" we apologized and Greenie introduced us one at a time, pointing at each. 

"This is Mary, Gwen, Fuzzy, Wolle, Nev, …" 

"Actually Nevada, coming from Nevada Smith!" corrected Nev. 

"Well, and I'm Greenie," she finished, and we all lifted a hand as a greeting – Nev made a peace sign. 

"Wha' kind of strange names are those?" Davy pulled up his upper lip questioningly. 

"I can't see what's so strange about Mary," Mike objected, and Micky started singing immediately, "Mary, Mary, where are you going to?" 

"No, not that," Davy agreed, "But Fuzzy? Wolle? Greenie? – Oh! Greenie?" he saw day- light. "They are nicknames! And you're called Greenie?" he turned to her, smiling and with glittering eyes. "Are you from England too?" 

"No, bu' I've lived there for a while," she replied in best Manchester-English, and Davy retreated with some slight irritation. 

"You're making fun of me!" 

"No, I…", stammered Greenie awkwardly, but she was interrupted by Peter, who called us for dinner. 

We went into the kitchen and wanted to sit down – but four chairs were missing. 

"Wait a minute!" said Mike, and the four Monkees went out to borrow some extra chairs from their neighbours. Minutes later we all sat together at the big table and ate Peter's quickly made Hawaiian toasts with great appetite. But I couldn't really get my head free as long as there was an important question that I had to ask. I kept thinking about how I could put it cleverest. Without knowing, Micky came to help me. 

"Now tell us again! What made you all come here? You said you got lost. Where were you headed?" 

"Uh, well, uhm…" began Greenie as our unofficial spokeswoman, a bit awkwardly. "We…" She looked around, begging silently for help. That's when I got it! 

"We were looking for a journalist who's supposed to live around here somewhere," I stepped in. "Perhaps you know her. She works for the local paper. Her name's Isabel Evans." I fixed Mike with an expectant look – and so did Nev, Fuzzy and Mary. Mike seemed to think and then shook his head. "No. Ah don' know anybody of that name." – and from four mouths came a relieved sigh, which luckily no one but us noticed. 

After dinner the Monkees debated on how to accommodate their guests. After a long discussion Mike decided it would be best if the four men put up two makeshift beds in the upper bedroom and we girls could have the lower bedroom. 

"Too bad we haven't got our sleeping bags…" mused Greenie in a low tone. "But who would've thought we'd go on a time trip?" 

"Just a minute!" exclaimed Gwen. "I've got one in the car!!!" and she ran outside to get her things from the van. A bit later she came back with her bag, and she brought Peter with her. 

"Hey girls! Got your makeshift beds ready?" 

"I'm still struggling," I admitted with a groan, while I fumbled about with the unruly folding bed. 

"Wait, I'll help you," offered Peter, and with a few practised movements bed #1 stood upright. 

"Why do you have so many beds then?" asked Mary. "I thought Babbit didn't allow any roomers?" – she bit her tongue immediately at that slip of hers. 

"You know Babbit?" Peter was surprised. 

"Yes, uhm,…", she stuttered, and looked at us, begging for help. 

"We met him this afternoon," lied Nev, without even blushing. 

"Uh-huh?" In the meantime Peter had folded out the second bed as well. The mechanism creaked into place. "Well, we have four beds for emergency, just in case some unexpected guests arrive!" He smiled his warm Peter smile, which captured me immediately. Face to face it was even sweeter than on the screen or on pictures. I said, if I wasn't a die-hard Nezhead… 

"But, as you can see, this time it's not enough," Peter finished and lifted his shoulders apologetically. 

"No problem!" Gwen waved it off. "I've got a sleeping bag." 

"And I can sleep anywhere," I added. "Several years of camping holidays do toughen you!" 

"But you can't sleep on the floor!" protested Peter. "Micky and I will carry the black couch in here for you. With a bit of luck it'll just fit in." 

It did. There was even a tiny amount of space to get by it, just in case someone had to get out at night. Finally the others shot fingers on who would get which bed, and then we went out once more into the living room to chat with the guys – and we had to pay a lot of attention not to let something slip about our background and our knowledge about the Monkees – that wasn't easy at all! While Greenie talked with seeming ease to Micky and Peter about music and TV series, and Gwen did her best to take part in that – just to avoid Davy's flirting eyes -, Mary, Fuzzy, Nev and I literally clung to Mike's lips. Every word he said, every smile, be it as little as it could be, was absorbed by us and commented with more or less intelligent giggling. Afterwards I considered our behav- iour exceptionally embarrassing – it was a miracle we didn't start drooling – but who could blame us? We had met our idol! The man from our unfulfilled dreams and night- long ravings stood right before us. The object of several pages' worth of letters! What Fuzzy and I hadn't written about his sideburns alone… and now we had them, along with dark brown eyes, wavy fringe, green wool hat and sensual mouth, directly in front of our eyes! Not to forget Fuzzy's beloved nose! SHRIEK and SIGH I could only think – if I thought anything at all. 

At first Mike didn't even seem to be aware he was being swooned at. But we didn't even pretend anything else when he shot a glance in our direction. Gradually he began to realize – who wouldn't have? – and he grew visibly uncomfortable, since he couldn't make out any reasons for it. He didn't know anything about our universe and the life his counterpart had already led there. Here he was nothing but an out of work musician who shared an apartment with his friends and band mates, played a gig now and then in a small dance club to earn the rent for their unreasonable landlord. And besides, normally it would be Davy whom the girls would adore. Now it seemed to be the other way around, and that irritated him as well as Davy. 

"Uhm… I think it's time to go to bed," said Mike, after he had tried to ignore us for a while by listening intently to Micky and Greenie's conversation about the comparison between "Bewitched" and "I Dream Of Jeannie". 

"Yes… Go to bed…" the four of us sighed devotedly. But Mike pointed plainly to the lower bedroom, then stood up and disappeared upstairs. 

"Yeah, Mike's right," Micky stretched with relish. "I wanna take care of your car first thing in the morning." 

Davy chuckled. "In the morning? I wanna live to see the day you crawl ou' of your bed before eleven a.m.!" Micky put his tongue out at Davy, wished us all a good night and followed Mike upstairs. Davy and Peter said goodnight. 

"Just call if you need something," offered Peter. 

"Yeah, Mike….", breathed Mary, so softly that no one but us heard it, fortunately. 

"Girls, put your tongues back in, he's gone." Greenie said with a grin. 

"Now you're talking!", I protested. "You jumped up on my arms when you saw Davy for the first time!" 

A short while later we all lay in our beds and try to understand our tremendous luck. 

"Boy, I still can't believe we're here!" I heaved happily. 

"My God, he's soooo sweet!", swooned Nev. 

"Michael!" sighed Mary for the umpteenth time today. 

"You think he noticed we all adore him?" asked Fuzzy thoughtfully, prompting a snort from Greenie's direction. 

"He must've been deaf and blind NOT to notice! You almost sat on his lap!" 

"Hehe, jealous, huh?", said Mary. 

"Meeee? Why should I?" 

"Poor Davy has been turned down all the time today," I giggled. "Poor guy! That's probably the first time in his life. The little guy is obviously totally confused!" 

"Well, Greenie hasn't taken a chance yet," teased Nev, prompting a sheepish "ha, ha!" from the same. "How am I supposed to lead a decent conversation with him when he's flirting with Gwen all the time?" 

"Gwen is so silent," I remarked with a grin. "Hope she hasn't fainted again, at the thought of Peter?" 

"Peter? Rubbish!", she said finally. We listened up with surprise. 

"How the sudden change of opinion?", asked Fuzzy. "I thought meeting the young Peter would be your wildest dreams coming true!" 

Gwen blew up her cheeks and exhaled with vigour. "Phhhfff.. no. The real life Peter, perhaps. But this one? That's the TV character, he's the dummy. Can't do anything with him!" 

"Oh, you're not doing him justice!", I objected a little too enthusiastically. "He's so amiable! He could never do any harm to any…" 

"Aha!" teased Greenie. "Old Wolle's barking up another tree!" 

"I'm sitting in the apple tree…." Sang Fuzzy quietly. 

"Uh, you're mean." I pretended to be offended. In reality I really thought it was pretty unfair to call Peter a dummy just because he was a bit naïve. I liked his character, be- cause he was so absolutely nice and decent. In m opinion there ought to be more men like him – especially in our own dimension! 

"Pity we don't have our London shirts with us," I mused. 

"That would have been a gag." 

"Yeah, and how would you have explained to Peter about that aged guy on the photo?" Fuzzy answered immediately. 

"Uh, yeah, sorry." I remembered. "It was just a thought…" 

Gradually the conversation in the room began to quiet down, but I think no one found any sleep that night. I myself had closed my eyes to give at least them a bit of a rest, but in my head I was wide awake, because I still couldn't believe what had happened; and the fear that everything might still have been a dream, if I fell asleep did its part in that.  


"BREAKFAST GIRLS!!!" a cheerful Peter woke us the next morning. It wasn't a dream. A quick glance at my watch told me the time was an unchristian 9 a.m. I groaned loudly. While the others got up in an instant, I returned grumpily to my pillow. I had hoped so much that this was only an invention of Madame's, but Peter really seemed to be a morning person – whereas I had more in common with Micky for that matter. But I didn't have the trace of a chance. Not against eight early birds! 

"Let's shoot for the shower," suggested Greenie, and the others joined her on the spot, fists lifted. Then they noticed someone missing and all turned in my direction. 

"Wolle?" 

"Shoot that out without me. I'll go without," I mumbled sleepily from under my blanket spent the time the others took to shower drowsing off once more. When I entered the kitchen, showered and dressed, as the last Chickie, the breakfast that had been meagre in the first place was almost completely cleared off. I didn't care much, not being a breakfast person anyway, but Peter, who had just taken the last waffle, was on the verge of tears. 

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't wanna take it away from you!" 

"Never mind, Peter," I soothed him and shot a searching look around the kitchen. Peter heaved a sigh of relief. 

"Really? I'll share with you, if you like!" 

"No, thanks," I waved him off, still looking. "You go ahead and eat. But… Do you have coffee or something like that?" 

Mike, who was just getting up from the table to put his plate in the sink, shrugged: "No, actually not. None of us drinks coffee. Would you like somethin' else perhaps? Or- ange juice?" 

I had to laugh in spite of my morning condition. Madame had definitely been wrong in this respect. 

"Hhm, perhaps you have tea?" I asked instead. 

"Yeah," replied Micky, making a face. "But only that horrible stuff Davy drinks – Earl Grey – blurgh!" 

"Acceptable, provided I can get some sugar and milk with it," I said and sat down. A wide grin spread on Micky's face again. 

"Sugar yes, milk's just out." 

Peter, who had just taken a deep gulp from his cup, put it down carefully and wiped his milksop with a guilty expression on his face. 

"Sorry…" His eyes ware almost beginning to fill with tears again, and Gwen rolled her eyes at this. 

"Man, what a sissy," she whispered and got a nudge from me for that. Then I put a soothing hand on Peter's shoulder. 

"No problem, Peter. It's not so bad. We'll go shopping later on. I can do with only sugared tea for now." 

And on Peter's face spread that warm, contagious smile with those deep dimples again. After breakfast Mike decided to give us all a lift to the supermarket in the Monkeemo- bile. Peter joined us to help carrying the groceries, while Micky was to take another look at our car and Davy was off to yet another date. At first I doubted whether the eight of us would fit into the Monkeemobile, but when we actually faced that unbelievable car, all my doubts vanished. Instead I felt my stomach flutter when I thought of the ride ahead! Otherwise cars didn't matter much to me as long as they had four wheels and rolled, but – gosh, this was the real Monkeemobile! The thought of cruising along the road with open roof made me want to jump with joy! 

Mike sat behind the wheel, Peter beside him, while we squeezed into the back seats – no, squeeze was definitely a wrong choice of words there. Greenie, Nev and I sat on the middle row of seats and there was still lots of space. So the shopping could start! As soon as Fuzzy, Mary and Gwen sat on the back bench and the door slammed shut, Mike started the engine. I felt the vibration, the satisfied humming and inhaled the slightly leathery smell from the seats, and felt simply – happy! When we turned onto the main street and the wind played with my hair, my short locks flying around my head, I exchanged a look with Greenie and saw that she, too, was beaming all over her face. In the supermarket we swarmed out in seven directions; each one brought the things they found most necessary and piled them up in the shopping cart Mike had taken into his custody. I'm afraid we made the impression of a family clan on an outing – and Mike was the mother!! Peter didn't differ at all from us Chickies and came back from his ex- ploits, carrying no less than five different sorts of cornflakes, prompting a scolding look from Mike. 

"No, Peter." 

Peter shook his head in a silent question, put two packages back onto the shelf, and returned with the remaining three. 

"No, Peter," was Mike's reply. 

Peter pulled a face and shelved two more packages. 

"Yes, Pete," he got his absolution, and he smiled with relief. In the end we all had our hands full carrying all the stuff to the Monkeemobile. The payment hadn't been a problem at all, because we decided to split the amount, and the prices weren't all that high in the 1960s. And what was more was that the guys were really thankful to have something decent in their fridge again! 

Piled up with groceries we trotted up to the beach house, Mike in the lead. He used his foot to bang on the front door, and Davy opened it for us. 

"FOOD!" he cheered, and hurried to take one of Gwen's bags. "Let me help you, Sweetie!" 

"I can handle that!" she snapped and snatched her bag back. Instead, Greenie put hers into his arms. 

"Oh thanks, Davy. Very kind of you." 

"Yeah, thanks!" I added and shoved my bag into his hands as well. Nev and Mary did the same – while Davy just remained standing there as if he'd been struck by lightning. Peter and Mike struggled to hide their grins while starting to unpack the food. Davy didn't want to make a complete fool of himself, and trudged bravely over to the kitchen table to get rid of his load, which was being closely observed by us all, since the little guy could barely see anything over the top of the bags. 

"You think maybe we overdid it a little?" I asked Greenie with an innocent expression. She shrugged at this. 

The groceries had all been stowed away, and we sat down at the kitchen table with Pe- ter and Davy to play cards, while Mike was strumming his guitar. Davy had sat as far away from Greenie as he could and kept eyeing her suspiciously. I think he didn't quite know what to make of her, which kind of made me feel sorry for her; but she really hadn't hit it off very well with him. Besides, it seemed that self-confident women made him feel uncomfortable. Still it beat me why he kept flirting with Gwen when she was so clearly refusing him. 

"Wolle!" I was pulled from the thoughts. Greenie looked at me challengingly. "It's your turn. Take a card!" 

We were right in the middle of trying to teach Peter and Davy to play "Mau-Mau" [Simple German card game], but somehow it was hard to concentrate on the game, because Mary's and Nev's eyes kept wandering off into Mike's direction. Greenie had to get them back to the game every other time. Davy wasn't much use either because he kept trying to establish eye contact with Gwen. 

"Mary!" Greenie was calling again, but when she got zero reaction, she threw her cards on the table. "You know what? Just forget it. We'll skip this game." 

"Oh," said Peter regretfully. "Now that I've got a Full House." 

"There is no Full House in Mau-Mau, you dummy!" Gwen said with enervation, while I couldn't help snorting and Greenie lowered her head to the table in comic exasperation. 

"Sorry," Peter sniffed. "I'm the dummy. I'm always the dummy." 

"Stop picking on Peter!" I struggled to keep a straight face because I didn't want him to start crying again. "Don't listen to them, Pete," I said to him. "You're not the dummy." 

"Right," said Fuzzy to me. "You're the dummy." 

"No, she's the dummy!" I shrieked in my best Micky-impersonation. Now it was Greenie's turn, and she impersonated Mike with such perfection that he looked up irri- tated from his guitar: "You are the dummy – DUMMY!" 

I turned to Peter in mock desperation: "See? They keep putting me down as well." 

"Aaawwwww….," All Chickies went sympathetically, and I put my tongue out to them. Peter, who had realized that we were all making fun, was smiling again. In that instant Micky stormed through the front door. He looked furious, which was so unlike him that I got a bad feeling at once – and I was vindicated, for he threw a little black box on the kitchen table; a few wires sticking out of it. 

"Could you explain this to me?" he asked angrily. 

We all stared at the box with shock; and Greenie and I exchanged a guilty look. 

"What's the matter, Mick?" asked Mike and stood up. 

"That's what I'd like to know!" Micky crossed his arms. "The car is perfectly okay! The engine is working smoothly, even the petrol tank is full – instead I found this under one of the seats!" 

"What's that?" Peter took the box and read the display out to us: "Time Engine 2000 – Start: 9/16/00 – Goal: 9/16/67 / 1334 Beechwood / TV…" he looked up in confusion. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Yeah, what's tha' supposed to mean?" repeated Davy; and Mike and Micky gave us some stern looks. 

"Well?" asked Mike. "You owe us some kind of explanation." 

"Uhm…" I started hesitantly, looking around for possible help from the others, but Gwen made a gesture of refusal. 

"Count me out! That was your idea – yours and Greenie's. You insisted on trying out that car!" 

"Yeah, but Nev pushed the red button!" I defended myself. 

"Well, thanks a lot, guys," grumbled Nev offended, and crossed her arms in front of her. 

"As if you didn't wanna come here at all!" 

"Hello," Micky interrupted our quarrel, "Could you please fill us in? What's the matter with that car? And what's all that talk about a red button?" 

Greenie began telling them as well as she could about the past incidents and the cir- cumstances that had brought us here. There was a big silence when she finished, and strangely enough, the first one to gather himself again was Peter. 

"Another dimension? And you're really from the year 2000? Gee, that's exciting!" Mike gave him an inscrutable look. "You find that exciting? Ah think that's scary!" "I don't believe it!" decided Davy. "You mean to tell us tha' in the time you come from we're only a cuppla fictional characters? Tha's rubbish, tha' is! I'm alive! I'm real! 'Oo's telling me you're no fictional characters yourselves?" 

"Who knows, perhaps we are in thirty years' time in your universe?" I said quietly and got a shocked look from Davy. 

"You think tha's gonna put me at ease?!" 

Micky's furiously twisted face had melted back into a soft smile in the meantime. 

"I think that's kinda groovy!" 

"You think THAT'S groovy??" Mike and Davy asked in unison. Micky's grin grew wider. 

"'Course! Six girls from the future coming to their favourite series' dimension just to see their favourite band live – I think that's outta sight!" 

When the true meaning of Micky's words and yesterday's evening began to dawn on Mike, he blushed fiercely and he cleared his throat awkwardly to hide his embarrassment. 

I seized the slowly relaxing situation and asked the four men: "So can we stay a bit longer? Please!" 

"Oh yes, please!!" the other Chickies chimed in. The Monkees exchanged silent looks. 

"Please, Mike!" begged Peter, delivering a great display of trademark puppy eyes. Mike shrugged. "Fine with me. Ah think if you think it's okay, then it is." 

"Groovy, Mike!" shouted Peter and Micky. 

"Thank you, Mike!!" we all cried in unison. 

"And what's more… " Micky added with a sheepish grin and turned the time engine boy over in his hands, "I have no idea how to get this thing back into the van." 

"WHAT!?!" we cried. 

"Hey, cool it, I'll manage," Micky said cheerily, and the others heaved a sigh of relief. Hopefully not too soon, I thought. I wouldn't mind spending the rest of my life here. As good as nothing drew me back to the year 2000…  


When the evening dawned, the situation had eased down, and everyone indulged in their own activities. Prior to the Monkees' daily rehearsal, Mike went through the lyrics to a new song to improve them. Peter silently tuned his bass, and Micky had gone to the upper backroom to look for a lost set of drumsticks of his. Davy wasn't back from the beach yet, where he'd gone for a swim, and we Chickies had scattered as well. Fuzzy lay sprawled across the living room couch, dozing off; Mary sat on the floor next to the staircase, leafing through a photo album she had begged off Mike. Gwen sat at the kitchen table, writing one page after another – she seemed to have an idea for a new story, which wasn't a surprise since she had more than enough material here. My fingers itched as well, but I tried doing a sketch of the pad, with Greenie looking over my shoulder and suggesting something to improve it now and then, when something didn't turn out the way I had wanted it to – especially concerning perspectives. 3- dimensionality wasn't one of my virtues. And Nev? Well, Nev had disappeared into our room until… 

"Man, I'm going nuts!!!" she desperately stormed into the room, "I have only one big wish at the moment – taking a shower and changing into some clean clothes, but that's not likely to happen, is it!" 

"I'd offer you some of my clothes," said Gwen with a smile and put her pen down. 

"Only I'm afraid they won't exactly fit!" 

Greenie laughed out loud. "Yeah, that'd be a bit of a problem!" 

Nev pulled a face. "We'll have to go shopping for clothes then. If I have to wear this filthy T-shirt just one more day, I'm gonna scream!!!" 

"I doubt whether our sparse financial resources are enough to buy new clothes," I said, "Or are they? I have no idea about the prices at this time." 

"Uhm, we could borrow you something if it's really urgent," Mike suggested all of a sudden. "At least until you've got yourselves something of your own." 

"Thanks!" Nev cried out with joy. Then she looked down at herself, then at Mike and back again, and gulped. "Hm, I'm afraid though, we don't really have the same clothing size, shotgun." 

"No, really not!" – Did I see a smile on Mike's face? "But perhaps something of Peter's will fit." 

"I'll get you something!" Peter volunteered immediately and ran up to the bedroom. A short while later he came back with a dark blue Monkees shirt, bearing the obligatory eight buttons, and a grey pair of pants, which he handed to Nev. She rushed off to the bathroom. On her way there she whispered into Fuzzy's ear, who had gone to the kitchen to get herself something to drink, "I would kill for clean underwear, too… You think I should ask Mike??" Fuzzy almost choked on her water. "Don't you dare!" she snorted. 

Fifteen minutes later Nev emerged from the door, grinning. 

"Hey hey I'm a Monkee!" she sang. It really looked smashing. Peter's clothes did fit her perfectly – only the arms and legs were a little too long. 

"Wow!" 

"Fantastic, Nev!" 

"Way cool!" were our comments. 

"I myself am deeply jealous," I stated and gave Peter a puppy dog look. "Pete? Would you be so kind and borrow me such a shirt as well? Just till tomorrow?" 

"Of course," he gave me his warm smile. 

"Oh yeah, me too!" cried Greenie. 

Peter looked at us sheepishly. "I don't think I've got that many… MIKE???" he turned beseechingly to the unofficial leader, but Greenie anticipated him. 

"One of Micky's will do, I think." 

"Okay, I'll get them out for you to put them on," Peter said and hurried upstairs again with three big steps, and re-emerged a short while later with two more shirts – one red and another blue one. Greenie snatched the red one immediately and put it on enthusiastically. 

Mike sighed impatiently. "Can we start rehearsing now?" 

"But Davy isn't here yet," remarked Peter, "And what about Micky? When I was upstairs just now, he was still crawling around under one of the beds, looking for his drum- sticks." 

"He's been looking for them the whole day!" growled Mike. Then he yelled with all his might: "MICKY!!!!!" 

A thud and a cry of pain came from upstairs. When Micky emerged from the door less then ten seconds later, he rubbed his head, which he seemed to have bumped on the bed when he'd jumped up. However, that didn't stop him from sliding down the spiral staircase in his usual fashion. 

"Well, did ya find them?" asked Mike impatiently. 

"Yep, the very second your tender voice reached my ears," Micky retorted and took his seat behind the drums. "Where's Davy?" 

"Late again!" Mike remarked. "Obviously he's met yet another girl on the beach and is off to 7th Heaven again!" 

"Do I hear jealousy in his voice?" Mary whispered to Fuzzy, causing her to giggle uncon- trollably. 

"Would you two please stop that?" I reprimanded them. Their Mike-Davy-fantasies really didn't fit in here. 

"Why don't you try your vast voice again?" joked Micky, still rubbing the bump on his head. 

"No problem, I'll fill in for Davy!" joked Greenie, jumped forward and snatched the tambourine and maracas. Then she started rattling them around wildly and crooning, 

"Cheer up Sleepy Jean…." in a pretty exaggerated accent. 

"Yeah, Greenie, go for it!" 

"Go toe, go!" 

"Sock it to me, babe!" we roared to support her. 

"Hey, that's not half bad," Micky laughed, prompting Greenie to do even more. She put the instruments away and launched into a really exaggerated version of Davy's typical dancing shuffle, still singing on. 

"Cheea up Sleeeepy Jean, oh wha' can it mean to a daydream believah and a home coming queen….!" 

Our giggling stopped abruptly – Davy stood in the porch door and stared at the whole scenario. The towel he had carried slipped from his hand as he saw Greenie, impersonating him in a rather comic way. Greenie noticed the change of atmosphere and turned around – and froze as well. 

"D-D-Davy! I can explain…" she stammered and blushed fiercely. But Davy only glared at her. His eyebrows drew together alarmingly. 

"You're making fun of me!" he spat angrily. "I'm only a clown, aren't I!" He marched past us without turning around, disappeared in the upper bedroom and slammed the door behind him. What remained was a pretty sheepish-looking Greenie, five other Chickies fighting hard not to burst out laughing, and three Monkees with rather mixed emotions. Micky giggled unscrupulously, and a small smile played around the corners of Mike's mouth as well, even though he did try hard to keep his air of authority. Only Pe- ter looked around questioningly. 

"Why is Davy so upset? We were only having a laugh!" 

Greenie was still standing there as if glued to the spot. "He hates me!" she babbled. 

"I've done everything wrong. He won't ever trust me again, or believe me that I'm a fan of his! He…" 

"Come on, don't take it that hard!" Micky tried to cheer her up, "Davy will calm down again." 

"I'll go and talk to him," Peter decided and hurried up the stairs – to stand outside the obviously locked door and knock carefully. 

"Davy?" No answer. "Davy – open up!" 

"No!" came the muffled answer through the door. 

"Come on, Davy – the girls were only joking. Just like this morning with me, and I'm not cross either! Come on out, we wanna rehearse!" 

"I'm not coming out! You're laughing at me!" 

"No, we're not laughing at you," promised Peter, but turned around with an inquiring look at us all. 

"No, Davy!" 

"Sure we won't!" 

"Please come down again!" we all cried simultaneously. 

"I'm sorry!" cried Greenie. 

"You hear that?" Peter turned back to Davy. "They're sorry. They didn't mean to hurt you." 

"Honestly?" he asked part shyly, part challengingly. 

"HONESTLY!" we all yelled in unison, and finally the key turned in the lock and a self- consciously smiling Davy peeped out. 

"Okay, I believe you," he said after he'd looked at the row of puppy dogs' eyes. "I'll just put on some other clothes, then I'll come down for rehearsal." 

Deep sighs of relief from Mike, Peter, Micky – and Greenie! 

"We have a gig the night after tomorrow at the Club Cassandra, and you know how bad we need this money," Mike headed off the rehearsal, when the group was finally complete again. "If we're good, we'll be able to get a permanent engagement – so give your best, guys!" 

We Chickies had gathered to sit on the floor in a semi-circle, in happy expectation of a private Monkees performance, "playing" the audience. Mike counted them in, and they started with "Clarksville" to warm up. Next came "Steppin' Stone" and "I'm A Believer" – we applauded thunderously. Then it was Davy's turn to sing. After "A Little Bit Me A Little Bit You" and "Look Out (Here Comes Tomor- row)" there were some extra loud cheers for the little guy – the very loudest coming from Greenie! 

After that Peter performed "Auntie Grizelda", causing us all to break out in enthusiastic fits – especially when he did his famous hip swing, nearly sending us off to a delirium – not unlike an LSD trip! 

Then Micky and Peter sang "Words", which I personally thought was so much better than any digital recording could ever reproduce it. And finally there was Mike's part! SIGH! Mike started out with "Papa Gene's Blues" and then went on to "You Just May Be The One". 

In the middle of "Sweet Young Thing" Fuzzy gave me a nudge. 

"Hey, Wolle!" 

"Yeah?" I retorted a bit gruffly. I wanted to relish Mike's unique voice as undisturbed as possible. 

"I think Mike's cast an eye on our Mary. He's been looking in her direction all the time!" "Rubbish!" I replied. But in reality I could and would not believe that Mike could ever feel more than friendship for one of us. Sure, we all adored him, but… No, I simply re- fused to believe that. 

"You're seeing things!" – and I turned away from Fuzzy obstinately to dedicate myself fully to his magic again, but I couldn't help it anymore. Fuzzy had triggered something, and I started watching Mike closely. He finished singing "Sweet Young Thing", fervently as always, but not directed at anyone in particular. Then it was Micky's turn again and he sang "The Girl I Knew Somewhere"; Mike concentrated on playing his guitar and only looked up a few times – was I seeing things or wasn't I? – into the direction where Mary was sitting. 

In the end they took up "Mary, Mary", nothing special actually, since it belonged to the Monkees' standard repertoire. But something was different this time. I felt pretty queasy and couldn't take my eyes off Mike. Every time he looked at the "audience" I kept fol- lowing his glance – and at whom he would direct it. And then he did it. When Micky was singing "What more Mary can I do to prove my love is truly yours…", Mike looked up again, smiled slightly and gave Mary – THE WINK!!! The one-and-only-Mike- Woolhat-patented WINK! 

That was when I first felt that poisonous sting of jealousy in my heart. Directed at a fel- low Chickie of all people. And I began to realize that Mike wasn't really different from other men. It was obvious why he would choose Mary from all of us. She was pretty, self-confident and had a really contagious laugh. I looked down at me, and my self- confidence shrivelled to a minimum. I'd never have had a chance, I thought bitterly. I only hadn't thought that Mike was just as superficial as all the others… 

"Girl, you look mighty good to me!" Mike was starting on the first verse of "The Kind Of Girl I Could Love" – and that finished me off! I jumped up and rushed off to the lower bedroom where I threw myself on the bed, burying my face in the pillows and sobbing uncontrollably.  


During the next whole day I stayed very quiet, only talked when it was absolutely neces- sary, hardly laughed, and if I did, only half-heartedly. Instead I kept catching myself ob- serving Mary and Mike. Were there some sure signs? Was any of them about to take the next step? Or would it just fade away again? I couldn't relax, and every time Mike turned to Mary or they were just exchanging the fewest words, I was raving silently – feeling really bad at the same time. I didn't WANT to be jealous of Mary, I liked her! Why couldn't I just be happy for her? 

In the morning the six of us drove off to town in our black van to get new clothes, and I was playing the elated Wolle they all knew as well as I could – and it was fun. We went from one store to the next, trying on one or the other Hippie outfit, putting on the wildest combinations and fooling around endlessly; and I forgot my grudge for a few hours. In the end we Monkee-walked back to our van, completely re-dressed, and any- one who didn't know better could have thought we were a group of teenagers on our way to Woodstock. 

Back at the Monkees' pad we received a rush of admiration and appreciation for our appearances, which made us feel even better. Peter stepped up to me and smiled at the multicoloured heap of wooden beads, dangling from my neck on a couple of necklaces. "Hey, these are groovy!" he said enthusiastically, "Have you been to that little store with the rainbow letters above the entrance?" 

I laughed. "'Who needs Beads'? Yeah, that store is outta sight!" 

Peter eyed me from head to toe. "I noticed you're wearing your belt to the side just the way I do. Do you play bass or guitar too?" 

"No!" I shook my head, half shocked. "Unfortunately I don't play any instruments. I'd love to, but I'm afraid I have a severe lack of talent." 

"Oh no, I don't think so," he replied. 

"You've never heard me play." 

"I can teach you, if you want!" he offered confidently, and I shrugged in resignation. 

"I play bass!" Greenie chimed in and sat down on the couch beside Peter. 

"Really?" beamed Peter. "You could join us onstage tomorrow in our gig!" 

"Uhm, I don't think so… " Greenie backed down, but when she saw Peter's disap- pointed face, she added quickly, "But perhaps this evening. You'll be rehearsing again, won't you?" 

"Of course!" Peter beamed again. 

Meanwhile something else had been drawing my attention, namely Nev, who had with- drawn into the kitchen, where she was intently busying herself over something. I couldn't see what it was though, because she sat there with her back turned to us. I nudged Fuzzy and cocked my head to the kitchen. She grinned back and nudged Mary in turn, who threw an impish look at us and tiptoed up to Nev who didn't notice her at first. But when Mary patted the unsuspecting Nev on the shoulder, whispering, "Boo!", she jumped up straight into the air and gave a piercing cry. 

"Aaah! Don't do that!" 

"Sorry," said Mary with a grin and shrugged indifferently. "What're you doing?" 

"Nothing!" snapped Nev at once and hid the object she'd been handling behind her back. Mary lifted her hands with resignation and backed away. 

"Okay, all right, I'm leavin'…" 

Then she turned to us, making a "Well, I tried.." gesture. Now Fuzzy took the initiative. Nev had dedicated herself to her secret activity again – which looked really odd, for she seemed to be shaking something, guessing by the noise and the heavy movements she made. Like a cat Fuzzy sneaked around her friend, who had stopped the shaking suspi- ciously and was hiding the thing with both hands. The nearer Fuzzy came the more Nev turned away from her on her chair. 

The rest of us watched the scene with growing interest and expectation. Gwen and Mary leaned both on mine and Greenie's shoulders, Mike was watching the whole thing from a safe distance from the front door, Micky and Davy both sat on the spiral stair- case, their faces pressed against the bars of its banisters, and Peter sat beside us on the couch, smiling at what he saw. 

"Leave me alone!" squealed Nev in her distress. But Fuzzy didn't. 

"Come on, what are you doing there?" 

"Yeah, tell us, Nev!" said Mary, and the rest of us pressed Nev verbally, too. 

"We won't stop until you tell us," decided Fuzzy. Finally Nev gave in. She emitted a sound that sounded a lot like Marge Simpson, then she held up the semi-transparent object, shaped like two cups put on one another and declared: "I'm washing my underwear!" 

Micky jumped up. "In MY milk shaker!??" he shrieked aghast, and everyone burst out laughing – even Mike! 

After lunch, Micky suggested going down to the beach. The proposal met with instant appreciation, and after our shopping tour we were fully equipped for such a thing, too. It became a beautiful afternoon at the beach. First we played volleyball – Mike, Peter, Nev, Mary and Greenie were one team; Davy, Micky, Gwen, Fuzzy and I the other. Actually, we were more clowning around than really playing. 

"Who's to serve?" 

"Us!" 

"Why you just did it!" 

"We scored!" 

Nev served and the ball took a high volley over the net. 

"I've got it!" shouted Micky and dived after it. 

"That's mine!" called Fuzzy simultaneously and dashed into its direction, too. 

"Careful!" 

"Stop!" 

Both of them stopped dead at the same time, about 5 inches away from each other, and the ball hit the sand with a loud 'plop'. 

"I thought you'd take it!" complained Micky. 

"Why? That was yours!" Fuzzy retorted. 

"We score!" cheered Nev. 

"Who's counting the scores anyway?" asked Gwen – and everyone looked at each other questioningly. "Never mind, let's play on!" 

The next time we even managed to keep the ball in the game for two whole minutes. Peter saved it from the net, Greenie received it and returned it skilfully to us. Davy managed to catch it, but it was way too low. I rushed to help and returned it forcefully. Mary fixed her eyes on it and stepped backwards to catch it while Mike lurked in the backfield. Everyone had their eyes fixed on the ball, and Greenie's cry, "Watch out!" came much too late – Mike and Mary had already collided, tripping over each other and falling over into the sand while the ball went off the field. 

With Micky literally roaring with laughter, Mike and Mary tried to free themselves from their awkward situation, but only go caught up more in each other when they tried to get up. 

"You need help?" giggled Davy at the sight of Mike, clumsily paddling around, lying on his back like a giant beetle, being visibly embarrassed. Finally Mary managed to get up and reached out her hand to Mike to help him up, who took it gratefully. They laughed patted the sand off themselves, until Mary stated, "Okay, we can go on now." 

"I don't want to anymore," I mumbled, my arms crossed in front of me. 

"Okay, let's go swimming, then!" suggested Davy and didn't even wait for a reaction but took off right away into the water. 

"YEEEEEEHAAAAAWWW!" yelled Micky, grabbed Gwen, who was completely taken by surprise, and shouldered her like some kind of package. Then he sprinted after Davy. 

"Eeeek!" was everything Gwen could say. 

Laughing, Peter, Nev and Greenie followed them and flung themselves into the waves. Mike and Mary followed a little slower, and it looked like they were exchanging a look that was just a little too long. 

"Hey, what's the matter with you, Wolle?" Fuzzy gave me a little nudge. 

"Nothing," I growled and went on observing the two in front of me. Mike was bowing down to Mary and saying something to her, which prompted a beaming smile from her – and caused my look to darken even more. Then he lifted his hand as if to put his arm around her, but seemed to decide against it a moment later. Obviously he didn't dare yet, but I could see that he wanted to. 

Fortunately I didn't have time to brood on that because we had caught up with the others by then and the biggest water battle was developing, and I rushed to join it happily. The water battle quickly turned into a dunking game, and we were getting more and more daring, until Davy protested with a snort: "Why are you always going after me?" He spat out water. "It's because I'm short, isn't it?" 

The answer was a rush of water Micky splashed at him and then ducked quickly, so that when Davy turned around furiously – only saw the innocent Greenie, who was chuckling at Micky's action. 

Davy threw a piercing look at her. "YOU again!?! Wha' have you go' against me? Wha' did I do?" 

Greenie gulped. "That really wasn't me this time, Davy!" 

"Hah!" he spat and crawled from the water. "I'm leaving! I'm fed up with your attacks!" 

"Davy!?" Greenie tried it again without success. Davy trudged sulkily back to the pad. Greenie turned back to Micky, who had resurfaced and grinned broadly, and shoved him. "Many thanks, man!!"  


Back at the pad Davy vented his anger by crumpling up his towel and throwing it away from him as far as he could. Then he kicked at the bandstand, but instantly pulled a pained face, held his hurting toe and hopped up and down a few times until the pain receded. Then he threw himself on the couch, crossed his arms in front of him and sulked. Slowly he began to get cold, and he decided to take a shower and get dressed. But there weren't any clean towels left upstairs, and he went back down to get a new one out of the closet in the girls' room that he had shared with Peter before. To get to the closet, though, he had to climb over the couch and all the beds. He bumped into the chest of drawers, where Greenie's folder lay, which contained the drawings she had been doing here. The folder fell to the floor and some sketches and an envelope with some photographs fell out. Davy picked them up and shot a glance at the sketches. Then his eyes widened, and he was very surprised to see that he himself was in most of them! Davy playing the tambourine with the band, Davy on the beach, Davy on a horse, … Several sketches, portraits and poses. Davy was pretty amazed, and he had a look at the signatures. 

"Greenie…" he gave a quiet whistle through his teeth and wasn't sure how he should react to this. She really appeared to like him – none of the drawings was exaggerated, cartoon-y or otherwise spiteful. And that was really confusing him. "Perhaps it was really a big misunderstanding?" he mused silently. Then he pulled out the envelope with the photographs and leafed through them – they were the ones from our hostel in London, when we had just returned from our shopping tour. One of them showed Greenie sit- ting on her bed and grinning, showing the album "Davy Jones sings", which she had got from a Camden town record store, proudly to the camera. Davy looked at the photo for a long time, and a mild smile spread on his face. 

The porch door opened, and there was the sound of several pairs of feet and elated voices. Quickly Davy put the drawings and photographs back into the folder and put it back where it had been. Then he swiftly grabbed the towel to have a decent explanation why he had been in that room and went out to us home-comers as if nothing had happened.   


As I was just stepping from the shower, rubbing my hair dry with a towel, Mary came storming into the room. 

"Chickies! I have… you don't know… He…" she blurted out. Nev grabbed her shoulders. 

"Now – calm down. Sit down, take a deep breath and start again slowly and from the beginning." 

Mary did like she was told and then said, "Mike asked me if I felt like…" 

"Yes?" asked Fuzzy excitedly. 

"… if I felt like going for a walk on the beach with him this evening!" she finished, beaming all over her face with the joy of anticipation. 

"What!?" it escaped me a little too horrified, but Fuzzy and Nev were overflowing with happiness. 

"Wow, Mary, that's fantastic!" Gwen and Greenie too were absolutely happy for her. 

"I wish I had this kind of luck with Davy…" sighed Greenie pitifully, "but I think I really messed up my chances." 

"But Micky seems to have developed some interest in our Gwen instead," remarked Nev, shooting her a meaningful side glance. Gwen herself had more of a sober approach to the whole thing: "Yeah, in me as a dumbbell or some other kind of beach toy. But back to Mary," she changed the subject. 

"What are you gonna do?" 

"I… I don't know!" she admitted desperately. 

"You're kidding!" Fuzzy interjected. "You'll go! Man, a date with Mike! I'd give any- thing for that!" 

"When did he say he wanted to meet you?" asked Nev, and Mary replied, "In half an hour." 

"Then get up!" Fuzzy ordered, "You gotta shower and get changed!" 

Fifteen minutes later Mary stood in front of the mirror, dressed in her tight bellbottoms and a black tank top, tying her hair into two pigtails. 

"You think I can go like this?" she turned to us quizzically. 

"Yeah, sure!" the others agreed. 

"Perfect," I said with a hollow voice. 

"What about shoes?" asked Mary, but Nev waved that away. 

"You're going to the beach – no use for shoes there!" 

"You're right. Now off you go!" urged Fuzzy and pushed Mary through the door. 

"Oh man, I'm so excited!" she heaved and waved us goodbye. 

"See you!" 

"Have fun!" we called, and Fuzzy gave her a thumbs-up. Five minutes dragged by in tense silence, then Fuzzy jumped to her feet. 

"I can't just sit around here – this waiting makes me all jumpy!" 

"You mean fuzzy," nagged Nev. 

"Whatever." She ignored the taunt and looked at us challengingly. "What do you think? We go after them and have a look?" 

"You mean spy on them?" Nev asked in shock, only to nod her agreement excitedly two seconds later. "I'm in!" 

"Do you think this is such a good idea?" Gwen was not so sure about it. "After all this is really a private…" 

"Rubbish, they won't even notice we're there," objected Greenie, who was also curious. 

"We'll keep a safe distance and pay attention we remain unseen. There are more than enough bushes and shrubs for us to hide, and besides it's almost dark outside." That convinced Gwen. Only I remained, and I knew I wouldn't stand a chance. 

"Okay," I said indifferently and followed the others outside.  


"There they are," whispered Fuzzy. 

"Let's walk behind there bushes, then they won't notice us," suggested Nev in a whisper, and we ducked and followed her. 

Mary and Mike were strolling along the shoreline, he had his arm around her shoulder, and they seemed to be immersed in deep conversation – too bad not one word reached us in our hiding place. Eventually they came closer to the bushes we were hiding be- hind, and we all held our breaths. But luckily they stopped about five yards ahead of us, and sat down in the sand, with their backs to us, looking out at the sea. We all huddled closer together to have a better view of what would happen now. Mike still had his arm around Mary's shoulder, and now she was resting her head against his. 

"Aren't these two a pretty couple!" whispered Fuzzy admiringly and Nev gave a yearning "Hhhhuuuuhhh…" 

"Ssh!" I reprimanded them a little harshly. 

Now Mike was tilting his head, and Mary lifted hers from his shoulder to look at his face. 

"What did he say?" whispered Nev curiously, but I hissed, "Be quiet!" 

"Ah know this sounds strange, but you remind me of someone," Mike was saying, stroking Mary's hair. His fingers played with one of her pigtails. "Ah dunno who, though…" 

"Someone you loved?" Mary asked almost voicelessly, and Mike looked deeply into her eyes. Then, without another word, he bent down to her and – kissed her! Mary was completely taken by surprise, she even forgot to close her eyes in the first moment. 

"Hhhh…" Fuzzy and Nev took in their breaths, and I think my heart stopped beating for a minute. 

Mike's lips left Mary's and she looked at him with big round eyes. 

"Was that for me… or for the person I remind you of?" she asked quietly. 

Mike smiled. "What person?" he replied and bent down once more. This time Mary did close her eyes… 

I couldn't face it anymore! I jumped to my feet, turned on my heel and left our hide- away, foaming. I don't remember if the others said anything to keep me there at all, but I didn't care. All I wanted was to get out of there! 

At the Monkees' Pad I slammed the door behind me and trudged over to the fridge to take comfort in a bar of chocolate. In the kitchen I met Peter, who greeted me happily. 

"Hello! Hungry?" 

I banged the fridge door shut and gave him a furious look. 

"MEN!!!" I foamed, "You're all the same!" 

Peter, who hadn't been prepared for such an eruption from my part and couldn't make out the reason for it either, was shocked. 

"I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean that!" he sniffed. Tears glimmered in his eyes. "I'm sorry, and no matter what I did, I'll never do it again!" 

In that moment I regained my wits, and I realized I had vented on the wrong person. Seeing Peter sniff and sob softened my heart, and I rushed up to him for comfort. "Oh Peter! Peter, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to yell at you! Please stop crying!" I hugged him and gently stroked his back, until his sobs subsided. I kept forgetting how sensitive Peter's TV character was. 

"Wh-what did I do?" he asked, still choking with tears a bit. 

"Nothing, Peter." I stroked his straight hair. "YOU haven't done anything, believe me. I… I think I was angry with myself just now and vented on you," I admitted. Peter sniffed a few times more, but he was already smiling again gingerly. "But why? What did you do to be angry with yourself?" he asked and brushed his hand across his eyes. I sighed. 

"I guess I've been pretty pigheaded, egotistical and peeved with my friends over the last few days, even though I didn't have the slightest reason. I think I should begin changing my basic attitude. Oh boy. Seeing to reason is the first step to improvement." - how perceptive, Wolle! The other Chickies entered the Pad and I was grateful for the distraction. 

"Well?" I greeted them. "Mission Eavesdropper accomplished?" Fuzzy nodded. "Yeah, we thought we'd better leave them to themselves now." 

"Wise words, Fuzzy!" exclaimed Nev. "We were sensible enough to respect that private moment of theirs." 

"In other words: We got discovered," summarized Gwen dryly, and earned an embarrassed look from Fuzzy and Nev. 

"Yeah, whatever." 

"And you?" inquired Greenie cautiously. "Everything okay, or…" 

"No, no," I gestured and smiled slightly. "Everything okay again. I just had to… vent," I finished, giving Peter an apologetic side look. He returned it with a shy smile and said, "Never mind." 

A loud drum roll made us all whisk around to the bandstand. Micky sat there behind his drums and was eagerly improvising a wild rhythm that captured and carried away the lot of us. 

"PARTY!!!" Nev announced and launched into an even wilder dance. 

"Hey, make sure you don't get hurt!" I warned her with a grin, but swung my hips as well. While Fuzzy just hopped around the room somewhat chaotically, Gwen watched the whole scene from a safe distance and shook her head slightly. Peter nudged Greenie and tilted his head encouragingly towards the bandstand. "What are you waiting for? You promised me something. My bass is all yours." 

Greenie nodded her resignation, climbed up on the bandstand, and picked up Peter's bass guitar. At first she only picked at the strings probingly, until she got a feeling for it, then she began rocking to Micky's rhythm and improvising a bass line. Peter also got onto the stage, nodded appreciatively into Greenie's direction and reached for Mike's six-strings. Then he started to play a melody along from scratch – it was fantastic! On the whole it was a bit like a jazz improvisation, with a rocking beat, and all of us were dancing along enthusiastically. Then another instrument joined the music. We looked up and, much to our surprise, saw Gwen standing at the keyboard and straining the keys! At first she looked a bit like Mike at the 1997 Manchester concert, trying out first this note, then another, but eventually she joined in, which surprised me a lot, since she'd been learning how to play for only a short time. I recognized the part she was playing – it was the fill from "Steppin' Stone", and it fit in perfectly! The music carried me in such a way that I grabbed the tambourine and banged it in Davy's manner – no, I guess more like a Hippie in ecstasy on an LSD party – my dancing didn't have anything in common with Davy any more! And as if he'd read my mind, he suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs and stared at our jam session with big eyes. Apparently we had lured him from the bedroom, for he looked a bit tousled overall. He woke up abruptly though when he saw the party scene below him. 

"Groovy! A jam session!" he cried eagerly and took two big paces down to us, got his maracas out from behind one of the amplifier speakers and started rattling along. We rose with the rhythm and the far out tune, and didn't even notice that Mary and Mike had returned from the beach. They stopped at the porch door and looked at the sce- nario that lay before them – Mary smiling open-mouthed and with shining eyes, Mike with his usual laid-back air and with his arms folded on his chest. 

With a thundering drum roll introduced the final, and he took everything out of his drums. We too gave everything once more, the music swelled to a thunderstorm, then Micky slammed on his cymbals, Gwen hit the keys, and we ended our performance with loud roars and wild applause. 

"That was groovy!!!" yelled Micky, and Peter went over to Greenie to whirl her around in the air in a cheerful embrace, which made her yell with surprise. 

"Ladies and Gems, you just heard and saw the fabulous Chick-Monks in their unique show!" shrieked Micky, babbling into the microphone with his trademark disk jockey voice. "One big warm applause for the man behind the drums, Micky the D.!" We applauded, and I shouted to him, "Fools' names first!", which he chose to ignore. Instead he carried on introducing us: "To my right – Big Pete on lead guitar! On my left the new support to the band: Greenie-Chick on bass!" Greenie bowed, flattered, and Micky added, "Good job, Greenie!" Then he extended one arm and went on screaming: "Freshly flown in on the keys: Chickie Gwen! And last but not least – on percussion: The unbeatable duo Wolle and Davy!!!" 

Davy snorted, and I tapped my finger on my forehead. 

Mary turned round to Mike and asked him in a broad Liverpudlian accent: "Did you think we interrupt sumthin'?", on which Mike chuckled. That's when we finally became aware of our audience, and we girls ran up to Mary and drowned her in our questions, while Mike went slowly and silently over to the band- stand, taking his guitar back from Peter. There was a rehearsal scheduled, after all. 

"Tell us, Mary!" 

"Yeah, how did it go?" 

"Come on, how did it feel?" 

"What did he say?" we urged her from all directions, but Mary laughed and lifted her hands. 

"Not now, I'll tell you later." 

And thus she left us standing there and went to sit down on the couch in front of the bandstand, ready to listen to the rehearsal. 

"Now what about that?" Fuzzy said bewilderedly. "And I thought she'd be aching to tell us…" 

"The connoisseur enjoys and keeps his mouth shut," remarked Greenie. 

"Uh, leave her be," I said to keep the peace and sat on the couch as well to enjoy the boys' rehearsal. But they didn't get very far. Just as Micky was about to count them in, there was a loud bang on the door and an enraged voice thundered, "Open up! This time you're ALL going!!!" 

We Chickies exchanged some shocked looks – Micky brought it down to a point: "Shit, that's Babbit!" 

"What do we do now?" asked Peter nervously, but Mike managed to calm him, as al- ways. 

"You hide the girls in the bedroom. I'll try and brush him off," he whispered and gestured wildly to the bedroom. 

"I'll help you," offered Davy and together they rushed to answer the door, which was still heavily being banged on from outside. 

Mike waited until Peter had chased the excited flock of Chickies off to the bedroom and closed the door behind us, then took a deep breath, adopted a cemented smile and opened the door. 

"Hello Mr Babbit, nice to…" 

"Spare your voice, Nesmith," the landlord interrupted him and marched into the room. 

"You can't fool me. I heard it – there's a party going on in here, and it is an unofficial and therefore illegal one! It's against the statements in your lease and you'll be going once and for…-" 

"Party?" Micky chimed in with an innocent grin. "There's no party going on here, is there, guys?" 

"No, definitely not," said Davy innocently. "No party. We hate parties – blurgh!" 

"Really, Mr Babbit. Can't you see there's no one here but us?" Mike explained tensely. 

"Where should all those party guests have disappeared so quickly?" 

Mr Babbit fixed the skinny Texan in a venomous glare. "You think you're very clever, don't you?" Then he ran up the stairs to the upper bedroom – Micky, Mike and Davy following him. 

"But Mr Babbit…"  


Meanwhile I was feeling everything but well in my present situation. After Peter had shoved us all into our room, we had face another problem: Where should we hide? 

"If he comes in here and sees us, he'll throw out the Monkees for real," said Fuzzy worriedly. 

"He's extremely snappy today," Mary said sheepishly. 

"Man, we only wanted to play a little music," complained Nev. 

"Guys, we've still got a problem!" Greenie reminded us. "Where are we supposed to hide in here?" 

"Just lock the door," I suggested. 

"That'll make him really suspicious," said Gwen. 

"Steps!" whispered Peter. "Quick, under the bed!" he ordered. 

"WHAT!?" I gasped. 

"The only possibility, hide under the beds!" he repeated. I gulped. "I can't – I'm a claustrophobic!" 

"Never mind, there won't be any clauses down there," was Peter's reply, which made Gwen break out laughing. 

"No, I…" I began again, but Greenie was already pulling me under the bed, where Fuzzy and Mary had already disappeared. 

"Quit talking, Wolle – come on!" 

"I can't!" I hissed in panic, but I didn't have a choice, because Nev and Gwen pushed from behind and then followed me under the bed. Peter pushed the black couch up against two of the beds, so we would have at least a little more space – but that didn't change anything about the fact that I felt everything but comfortable in that narrow, dusty and dark confinement. Then we heard the bedroom door open and the landlord's thundering baritone filled the room. 

"What's that supposed to be? Looks like a bed site for several persons, eh?" 

"Hi, Mr B.!" sounded Peter's cheery voice, then the overlapping voices of Micky, Mike and Davy, trying to help each other out with their explanations. 

"Uh, you're wrong there, Mr Babbit," began Mike, "The thing is…" 

"It's because of… uhm," Davy picked up the thread and groped for words. 

"It's because of Peter!" said Micky. 

"Because of Peter??" echoed Mike and Davy in surprise, then a little more confidently, 

"Yeah, yeah, Peter – exactly!" 

A few seconds' silence, in which Mr Babbit, Mike and Davy probably stared at Micky, waiting for him to continue his explanation, which seemed to be a slight problem for him. 

"Well, uhm, … uh," he began. 

Meanwhile, sweaty beads of panic began to roll down my forehead. I felt my fellow "prisoners"' bodies extremely near against mine – I felt like a sardine in the can. "I can't take it anymore," I hissed as quietly as possible, which got me only merciless shooing from the others. In the meantime Micky seemed to have had an idea – I think I might have heard a light bulb popping up above his head. 

"Yes, well, Mr Babbit," he began, "Peter's had some sleeping problems lately. He sleep- walks and keeps tossing and turning in his sleep. Sometimes he gets such nightmares he falls off the bed! And that's why we put all these beds in here. We all sleep in here with him to keep him from getting up at night and to calm him down when he's having nightmares. And we push up the beds against each other so Peter can't fall out! See, it's all that simple!" 

Unnoticed by Mr Babbit, all four Monkees let out their breaths. And the landlord even seemed convinced – almost! 

"And what was that loud music just now? I told you not to play so loud!" 

"We're sorry, Mr B." Now Peter used his stone-breaking charm. "But we've got a very important audition tomorrow, and I suppose you know best how bad we need that job." 

This finally convinced Mr Babbit, and he became a little calmer. 

"Well," he muttered, "I'll let you go with that for once. But mal sure I get my rent payments on time!" 

With this he shuffled outside, followed by the Monkees. As soon as the door clicked shut and Peter hissed, "All clear!", I shoved and pushed my way to freedom. 

"At last!" I groaned, collapsing onto one of the beds, gasping for air, soaked in sweat and white as a sheet. 

"Wolle is a bit upset, apparently," teased Nev, which got her an icy glare from me; but a second later a wide grin was already spreading on my face again: "Hey, how's your underwear?" 

An instant later there was a furious howl from Micky in the kitchen, 

"Aaaaaarrrrrghhhhhh! NEV!!!" 

"Ooops," she went guiltily.  


"So out with it, Mary!" Nev urged when at last we were all in bed that night. "Yeah, tell us!" said Fuzzy, "How was it?" "How was what?" she asked wearily, but there was a smiling undertone in her voice. Fuzzy and Nev let out a little growl and then they both blurted, "THE KISS!!!" 

"Oh, that…" she began slowly. 

"What? That's all?" I asked in amazement, "And I thought this would be something along the line, 'Oh, what a kiss! I've never felt this way before!'" 

"You fool! That was not the kiss, but the magic necklace!" Greenie picked up the thread. 

"Ah, what a necklace…" I began, but was interrupted by Gwen. 

"Quit the nonsense! What about it, Mary?" 

"Hmm… How shall I put this…" 

"Wasn't it good?" asked Fuzzy. "I would have fainted it that had happened to me!" 

"That's what I had thought too," began Mary and sighed at the thought back. "It was all great, fantastic! We walked along the beach, he talked about how he and the guys had met, and I talked about how I had met you. He had his arm around me and I was so unbelievably happy! Then we sat down in the sand, watched the stars and held each other. He played with my hair, and then… he kissed me." 

"Hhhhh…" went Fuzzy, Nev and I simultaneously. 

"But then…" Mary crossed her arms behind her head and hesitated for a moment. 

"What then?" inquired Greenie. 

Mary emitted a dissatisfied little noise. "I dunno. It… it didn't feel right somehow. Phoney somehow, do you understand?" 

"No." Nev said simply, and Mary tried to explain. 

"There was always that thought at the back of my head, this isn't the real Mike, you know? He's real at this moment, but then again he isn't. As soon as we go back to our own time, he'll be just the character from the TV show again, one that never really existed. There would be no future for him and me here – because I don't wanna stay here forever! It was different when we all swooned about him via video, but now? It would only have ended in a quarrel." 

I was really glad the lights were out that moment, because I felt myself blushing with shame. I felt guilty for the jealousy I had had in respect to Mary. "I'm really sorry, Mary," I said and I meant every word of it.  


"Very funny, guys!" I stared contritely into the once again empty fridge, and wondered whether there might still be something vaguely edible hidden in it. It really was beyond belief what six girls and four boys could eat up. Not even cornflakes were left – not one little crumb! Instead I dug up a paper bag and brandished it accusingly. 

"Could anyone kindly explain to me why we're keeping sugar in the fridge?" 

"To keep it cool!" replied Nev in between chews. I gave her The Look. 

"What are you chewing anyway? I thought there wasn't anything left?" 

"Chewing gum," she replied curtly. "From Fuzzy." 

I sighed deeply and shut the fridge door. Then I started out on a third search around the kitchen, but the only things I found were a rubber steak and a plastic apple. 

"Great." Resignedly I stared at the useless objects. The Monkees were off to their audition at the Club Cassandra this afternoon, and according to the others' orders I was supposed to bake a cake to surprise them when they came home, as a means of thank- ing them for letting us live at the Pad so long. But how to make anything decent with- out any ingredients? And Greenie, Mary and Gwen hadn't returned from their shopping tour to the supermarket yet. Fuzzy was strolling into the living room, saw my sheepish look and offered me a little strip. 

"Gum?" 

"Great," I said sarcastically. "I'll bake a cake out of sugar, wax fruit and chewing gum – delicious!" 

With a shrug, Fuzzy put the strip of gum into her own mouth. 

Fortunately the other Chickies were returning from their shopping tour that very moment. We all rushed for the bags. 

"Yep, I should be able to make something from that!" I cried and triumphantly held up a bag of flour. Then I slapped Fuzzy's fingers. "Hands off! That's my milk! And those eggs too!" I snatched the box from Nev, which she commented with an offended pout. 

"Man, I'm starving!" 

"No way! And now – everyone out of my kitchen, I need space!" 

"YOUR kitchen?" the others asked incredulously. 

"I said, OUT!" With wild waves of my hands I rushed the chickens – excuse me, Chickies – from the kitchen. 

"All right…!" 

"You too, Nev!" I insisted. Nev turned from the kitchen table and looked at me with desperate eyes. 

"Man, I'm hungry!" 

I looked quickly around on the table, grabbed the cornflakes package and shoved it into Nev's hands. Then I pushed her out of the kitchen. 

"Here. Have a nice meal." 

"Can't I at least have a bit of milk with that?" 

"No!" 

That left the entire kitchen to me alone. But since it wasn't a separate room, but ad- joined to the living room, I couldn't prevent the others from watching me intently. Like chickens on a perch they sat on the spiral staircase and giggled their hearts out, while I felt like one of those hobby chefs on TV that someone had videotaped and pushed the 'Fast Forward' key for some reason. Like a whirlwind I threw the ingredients for the cake in a large bowl and stirred them until I had a soft dough. Then I added cocoa powder, marshmallows and a chopped – NON-plastic! – apple, stirred once more and poured it all into a big cake tin, which I put into the hot stove. As soon as I had closed the oven door, I went back to normal 'play' mode again – very strange… 

"Okay!" Satisfied, I clapped my hands and turned to the others. "It should be done in one hour." 

"Let's hope the guys don't come home early!" said Mary. 

"Let's hope they get that contract!" remarked Greenie. 

"Of course they will!" exclaimed Gwen with conviction. "Any club owner would be pretty stupid NOT to take the Monkees!" 

"Don't forget that this isn't our own reality," objected Fuzzy. I nodded eagerly. 

"Right. They could spit their talent out in front of them and they still wouldn't get it!" 

"Speaking of which, I'm hungry!" Nev announced once again. 

"All right, let's eat something," I resigned, and the others agreed enthusiastically. 

"I'd like some scrambled eggs!" cried Nev. 

"I don't like eggs – don't you have some sausages?" asked Fuzzy. 

"Listen, have I been degraded to a housewife or something?" I mock-complained. "This ain't no restaurant!" 

"Waiter! The bill please!" joked Mary, which made me throw the rubber steak at her.  


One and a half hours later – the cake was already on the table, still warm and steaming – the Monkees stormed the house with happy Indian war cries – they'd got the gig! Ahead of them all was Micky, who wouldn't even wait for our questions, but ran straight into the kitchen, putting his nose up into the air and sniffing. 

"Hmmm – cake!" 

"Will you keep your big nose out of that!" I rebuked him. "Wait till everyone's seated!" 

"I'm starved to death by then!" 

"Forget it," Nev told him sympathetically, "she's all hard." 

Eventually we all sat down at the kitchen table, devouring the cake – in the shortest of times Micky had gobbled up two pieces and was already reaching for the third, when Davy scolded him, "Hey, will you leave something for me!?" 

"Yeah, for me too," agreed Mike. "This is really delicious. What's in this stuff?" 

"Don't ask," I advised dryly. 

"And how do you call this?" asked Micky, chewing with his mouth full, and I answered deadpan: "Rainer." [Please email us for an explanation... ;)] 

Greenie snorted with laughter, and Fuzzy rolled her eyes to the ceiling, while the Monkees only exchanged confused looks.  


"Hello, we're the Monkees," said Mike into the microphone, "and our first song this evening will be 'Last Train To Clarksville'." He nodded to Micky behind the drums, who hit his drumsticks together and counted the tempo in. 

"One – two – one, two, three, four!" 

The guitar intro filled the room, accompanied by the catchy rattle from Davy's tambourine, and seconds later the floor of the Club Cassandra shook with dancing feet and swaying bodies. And in the middle of it all there was us. I think nobody can grasp the felling that got hold of us all, you'd have had to be there! 

While Fuzzy, Nev, Greenie and Mary danced devotedly to the music and barely differed from all the other teenagers in the club, Gwen and I kept to bobbing along to the rhythm at first. My eyes wandered across the room, and I felt like in a trance. Only now that the excitement of the beginning had receded, and it was a fixed fact that we would be leaving this time period again tomorrow, now I began to realize what had really happened – what we had experienced during the last few days – what a chance we'd got! I was nearly crying with emotion! But from the experience in London I knew I would be able to restrain myself as long as I was with the group. But I also knew that everything would break down on me as soon as I would be alone – and I dreaded that moment! 

Just this one more evening, then… We had decided after dinner tonight that it would be best this way, as long as it was good, with this Monkees gig being the highlight of our trip. And it almost seemed to me that they gave their best especially for us to make sure we got a great show. While Mike was singing "You just may be the one" with all his heart, mine sank at the thought of the goodbye that lay ahead. I realized I would never face him like that again – young, slender, with those sideburns, the thick black hair, the wool hat… thinking of which – where was it? I hadn't seen the green wool thing since yesterday evening, and it wasn't at all like Mike NOT to wear it! Strange…, I thought. Then Gwen heaved a very deep sigh at my side. I turned to her. 

"What's up?" 

"I just can't believe it!" 

"Yeah, I know what you mean," I nodded. Gwen's eyes began to glimmer wetly. 

"And it's all gonna end tomorrow, just like that, as if it never happened at all?" 

"No, not like that. It HAS happened, and you'll always know that. This memory will stay with you forever." 

"But we can't tell anybody about it. It's like a dream…" 

"It's a dream you've shared with five other people," I said quietly. Gwen's eyes fixed on me for a moment, then she sighed again, this time with admiration. 

"Micky looks gorgeous tonight!" 

I smiled broadly – I'd been thinking the very same thing, about Mike. No, about them all actually. They all looked perfect this evening, in their black Monkee shirts with light blue pants. Only their shoes differed. Davy wore black boots as always, Mike his cowboy boots, Micky the obligatory white sneakers that wouldn't quite fit with the rest of his outfit, and Peter his usual soft moccasins. He was singing "Your Auntie Grizelda" and swung his hips, making us almost dizzy… One time he looked over to us and gave us his warm dimpled smile, and we waved back. 

After the Monkees had played for just over an hour, Mike put his guitar away and stepped up to the microphone. 

"Okay, listen! You're really a great audience, and we will play some more for you, but give us a bit of a rest right now, okay?" 

Enthusiastic yells and claps were the answer, and Mike smiled one of his rare, seemingly shy smiles. "Thanks! We'll be back in about half an hour. Until then…" He gave Peter a wink. "Throw on the jukebox, ol' buddy!" 

The song "Twist And Shout" by the Beatles filled the room, and the crowd started dancing again. We Chickies ran up to the stage. 

"That was really groovy!" we cheered. "You are better than ever and the kids love you!" 

"Oh thank you, thank you, you are generous beyond generous," joked Micky devoutly and made his way towards us from behind his drum kit. Davy spread out his arms and droned, "You… you really like me!" 

"We LUV you, Davy!!!" we shouted in unison, and he smiled proudly. Micky hopped down from the stage and with a broad grin landed in front of Gwen. 

"Hey, care to dance?" 

THAT must have been poor Gwen's undoing, for her eyes became as big as saucers, her legs gave way beneath her and she fell to the floor with a little 'plop'. 

"GWEN!??" we all cried aghast, and stared down at her. Micky pressed his fists against his hips and shook his head in mock anger. 

"That's no way to do that!" Then he simply pulled her back up to her feet, lifted her up and tucked her under his arm like on the beach the day before. 

"Come on, we'll go dancing now," he decided and strode over to the dance floor with the totally flabbergasted Gwen, while she kept murmuring, "OhmyGodohmyGodohmy- God…." We giggled and watched them. On the dance floor Micky put Gwen down and hugged her in a close embrace. "To stop you from falling over all the time…" he whispered, intended for her ears only, rocking her gently back and forth to the rhythm of "And I Love Her". Gwen looked up to him in utter bliss. 

"Uh, aren't those two a cute couple?" asked Davy, and we turned to him in surprise. Had he finally realized he'd never had the faintest chance with Gwen? 

"I don't know how you feel, but I feel like dancing, too!" announced Mary and took off into the crowd. Davy of course didn't have to be told twice, and the rest of us followed Mary as well. Only Mike, who never danced, stayed at the edge of the dance floor and kept to watching us with that mysterious smile of his and feeding the jukebox from time to time. 

After fast dancing tunes like "No Milk Today", "Doh Wah Diddy Diddy" and "With A Girl Like You", the melancholic "Monday Monday" by the Mamas and the Papas began to play and on the dance floor things began to calm down. Couples moved slowly to the song – Gwen was off to 7th Heaven with Micky. We others took the break as an opportunity to catch our breaths and get some drinks from the bar. When Greenie sipped her cocktail and tapped her lightly to the rhythm, someone tapped her shoulder from behind. She turned around and almost choked on her cocktail. 

"Davy!" she exclaimed with surprise. 

"Hi," he said shyly and all of a sudden seemed to find the tips of his shoes extremely interesting. "I… I only wanted to… er…" he stammered. 

"Yes?" Greenie inquired uncertainly. What was wrong with Davy so suddenly?, she wondered. She'd been avoiding him to save herself from another blunder, and Davy too had been keeping his distance until now. And he was addressing her personally, which had very rarely happened before. 

"Uhm, I…" Davy started again. He was groping for words in a manner so completely unlike him that Greenie simply took the initiative. 

"Listen Davy, I may not have appeared in a very good light to you over the last few days, but I just wanna tell you that it wasn't at all what you thought! It was just a weird chain of coincidences, but…" 

"I know," Davy interrupted her gently, and to her utter surprise smiled warmly at her. "I was in your room yesterday, because I needed to ge' a towel, and … I saw your drawings… Are you mad at me now?" he asked carefully and looked up to her tentatively. 

"N-No," Greenie recovered slowly. "No, of course not – if you liked them?" she added quickly, and Davy laughed: "I loved them! They're fantastic! I didn't know you were such a talented artist!" 

If you only knew, she thought, thinking of her homepage. But she only said, "Thanks! Does that mean we're at a truce?" 

In this moment the jukebox started playing the catchy "My Generation" by the Who, and Davy beamed and took Greenie's hand. 

"I've go' a better suggestion: You and I go over to the dance floor, and you'll show me some of your dahnces!" 

"Some of the newer dahnces?" Greenie repeated automatically, but this time Davy grinned at her appreciatively. 

"You're really good! Your accent's almost perfect!" Greenie proudly let Davy drag her onto the dance floor. As they danced past me, I shot a glance at Greenie, which she returned happily. 

Meanwhile I looked searchingly across the jumble of swaying bodies because I was miss- ing Peter. It wasn't like him to disappear just like that – especially when dancing was involved. But I couldn't find him anywhere. I fought my way through the masses of dancing young people up to the stage – where I finally found Peter. He slumped on one of the big amp speakers and made a very sad impression. 

"Peter, what's the matter?" I asked carefully and sat on a second speaker. Peter sniffed quietly and said, "Nothing." 

"Come on, Peter. You can't pretend anything to me." I moved a little closer to him. "I can see you're upset. Is it because of tomorrow?" 

He looked at me with wet eyes and blurted, "I don't want you to leave so soon!" He put his head on my shoulder, and I put my arm around him, trying my best to comfort the sobbing guy. 

"Look, Peter, I don't want us to go neither, but Greenie was right: It's better to say goodbye like this, when we all get along so well with one another, and we had such a great time. Just imagine we'd stay longer, and get on each other's nerves eventually, and part in a quarrel – that would be awful! Like this, we'll keep each other in the best possible memory!" 

His sobbing subsided. He lifted his head and looked at me with big eyes. "You think so? I've never looked at it this way before." 

"See? So now we're having this great evening as a perfect end to our trip, we're having fun, and tomorrow we'll take this wonderful memory back to our time." I gently pushed a strand of hair from his forehead. "And now please don't be sad anymore. I want to remember you smiling," and Peter beamed at me so warmly my heart did a little hop. To distract myself I took his hand and dragged him down to the dance floor, where we danced until the half hour's "rest" was over for the Monkees and they had to return to the stage. They finished their set, and when we went home at eleven, we were all completely exhausted, but happy!  


"Well, I guess this is goodbye now." 

We had all packed our possessions into the car and had returned to the Pad once more to say goodbye to the boys. I could see it was difficult for them as well, especially for Peter, but he pulled himself together bravely. Micky came first. In his quick manner he hugged each of us briefly – but he did hold on to Gwen a bit longer and whispered something into her ear, and although no one else could hear, you could tell by Gwen's beaming face that it must have been something nice. 

Then it was Davy's turn. He hesitated a second in front of Greenie, because she held out a piece of paper to him. "Here," she said simply. Davy looked at the picture, which showed a particularly good portrait drawing of himself. He was so happy about this that he hugged Greenie and flung her around in a circle, making her cry out in surprise. 

"I hate goodbyes," said Peter with a choked voice when he came up to me. 

"Let's not say goodbye then – let's say see you later, perhaps we'll come back one day." He gave me a big hug, and the others too. 

In the end it was Mike's turn, who conquered his stiffness for once and briefly squeezed us as well. Then he took one step back, looked self-consciously from one to the other, cleared his throat and mumbled an embarrassed "Be good." 

"Okay Chickies," said Greenie finally with a sigh, "It's time. Now or never." 

"Bye!" We waved once more, and then the door to the Pad closed behind us. 

From inside we heard Mike say, "Mick, have you been hiding my hat again?" which met with a piercing, "Meeee!? Why is it always my fault when you can't find your hat?" Normal life went on in there. Only Peter sobbed a little. The sound followed me up to the car. 

Greenie crammed herself behind the wheel again while I took a seat on the back bench this time. Nev – now in charge of pushing any red buttons whatsoever – sat on the front seat. 

"What are you fumbling at?" I asked Fuzzy, who was digging up something from under her T-shirt. Proudly she held up a very familiar green object. Mary's jaw dropped. 

"Mike's hat! You've…" 

"Yep!" stated Fuzzy. 

"Why?" gasped Mary, and Fuzzy grinned and shrugged. 

"I wanted to have my own piece of Mike too." 

"It can't always be you, Mary," Nev commented. And I remarked: "So it's your fault then that Mike stopped wearing the hat during the second season, Fuzzy!" 

"Ready for the voyage home, Chickies?" Greenie changed the subject, and we all gave a simultaneous moan. 

"I don't really wanna go home yet," said Mary. 

"Yeah, let's try out another Monkee dimension!" cried Gwen. I gave her a little prod with my elbow. 

"Why the sudden change of mind?" 

"Okay, I wouldn't object to another trip," admitted Greenie and turned to the 'Time Engine' box. [Hoffentlich hat Micky das Teil wieder richtig eingebaut!!! LOL] 

"So, where do you wanna go?" 

"Erm…" began Mary with a mischievous grin on her face, exchanging a look with Fuzzy. 

"Don't even think about it!!!" I hissed at her. "We could just as well go to Florian's uni- verse then!" 

"Argh! Okay, you've got me," said Fuzzy at once. "But where, then?" 

"I don't care as long as it isn't Madame's and En's Trauma Series!" said Greenie. 

"Merciful Heavens!" I gasped, and a cold shudder crept down my spine. 

"Hey, how about 2017?" Gwen suggested suddenly. 

"Yeah!" Nev agreed at once, and the rest of just were just as enthusiastic about it. 

"Be sure to enter it correctly," I cautioned Greenie, "God knows where we'd pop up otherwise!" 

"Goal: September 2017/Monkees/Shades of Gray…" typed Greenie. 

"Anything else?" 

"I think that's enough, isn't it?" I turned to Fuzzy and Gwen. They nodded. 

"Okay, off we go, guys!" 

"Nev, your turn!" 

Nev grinned broadly and pushed the red button on the dashboard. "Hold on to your seats, Chickies!" 

A yank went through the car, and seconds later it disappeared in a blinding flash of light….

  


THE END (part one)

  



End file.
